The Heart of Hermione Granger
by MsKristina
Summary: Hermione decides to finish her final year, despite the mere thought of Hogwarts sending her into a panic. Severus spends most days of his new found freedom drunk or unconscious. Fate(and Minerva) bring them together on a mission, but it's no smooth sailing. Can they each overcome their demons for a chance at something more? *This is my first story, let me know what you think!*
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: No person or content you recognise belongs to me, I have simply borrowed it from the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling.

Hermione Granger felt a curious combination of emotions ranging from joy to distress as she stood before the cream coloured bricks of platform nine and three quarters. For long months after the end of the war, she had woken up each day and looked at her list. It read-"Pro's and con's of returning to Hogwarts". On the one hand, she desperately wanted to finish her education and aside from that she enjoyed learning almost as much as breathing. On the other, just the thought of the dark looming spires of the castle sent her mind into lockdown.

The war had taken from many people, some more so than others. Hermione had lost her parents, friends and apparently, a good chunk of her sanity. She was perfectly fine, until she had been alone with her thoughts much too long, or until nightfall. The young woman winced, thinking that her long nights studying alone in the library were most definitely over unless she could beat her demons. Harry and Ron had opted against returning to finish their final year. Harry had almost immediately accepted the position offered to him as an Auror, but Ron declined in favour of attempting to stay home and rebuild his now broken family.

Most of her year group had chosen to return, including Malfoy and a few choice Slytherins-though their ranks were considerably less than that of the other houses. She knew this before even stepping on the train, as Professor McGonagall had come to her three weeks prior and persuaded her to take on the position of Head Girl, stating that she was "robbed of her chance under horrific circumstance". There was still a know-it-all spark somewhere deep within her and it glowed at the opportunity for further knowledge, so she had said yes.

Now that she was staring Hogwarts, and her own problems right in the face, she cursed that little spark. With one more deep breath, Hermione ran right towards the centre of the wall and onto the platform.

Severus Snape awoke on his couch sometime around noon, a deep-set headache behind his dark eyes. The remains of some firewhiskey had leaked out over his carpet, probably when the bottle slipped from his hand as he lost consciousness. His jet black hair was sticking up at all angles and he was only wearing one boot. It was a very different look for the usually surly potions master, and one that he despised deeply. He checked his watch and swore, he was fast on his way to being late for the students return to Hogwarts.

After a brief, impersonal shower the man was apparating to the gates. He looked up at the castle and let out a soft groan, why the hell had he let Minerva convince him that this was a good idea. Letting his expression settle into a deep glare, he strode across the grounds with his cloak billowing around him. There weren't as many first years as usual, probably not even half. He wasn't surprised. Parents heard rumours and though his 'heroics' had been proved; they were still reluctant to send their children into the midst of a murderer. He didn't care.

Any scrap of emotion had been tortured, cut and bled from him over the years. Severus viewed it half as a punishment for his foolish choices in life and half as a sacrifice well made for the sake of those he had a hand in saving. His heart betrayed him with a gentle pang as he thought of the people he couldn't save. He scowled deeper and allowed his eyes to wander around the room. Many students had returned as 'eighth' years, but only one third of the Golden Trio remained. She didn't look particularly well. Whilst her hair was sleek and groomed as he had never seen it, the deep bags below her eyes and the way she picked at her food told a different story. Not his problem. Thinking that he had done enough of the saving, Severus Snape went back to his food.


	2. Chapter Two

Author's note: Thank you to those who have had a read, and here's to my first review(thankyou)! This story is really starting to develop in my mind, the plot will hopefully become clearer as time goes on. I'm aiming to update every couple of days and will be posting longer chapters from here on in.

Edit: Just updating the first two chapters so they are easy to read, thanks to SkyeMoor for the suggestion.

The welcoming feast had been pleasant, it was good to see her friends. Luna had been the most kindly to her, aside from Ginny. The rest appeared unsure of how to proceed, it seemed that her success in taming her unruly mop of hair did nothing to disguise the exhaustion and distress in her eyes. Hermione felt as if she were wearing one of Mrs Weasley's home knitted jerseys, emblazoned brightly with "I HAVE ISSUES".

As soon as dessert was over, the girl made a break for it. After the smooth oak door of her bedroom closed, she let out a relieved sigh. All too quickly, fear crept into her mind like a noxious weed and smothered the Hermione's calmness viciously. Being Head Girl, she was entitled to her own dorm. Before everything that had come to pass, this would have thrilled her to no end. None of Lavender and Parvati's endless dribble about which wizard was the hottest this week, or how they had perfected dry shampoo spells. Okay, she'd admit that she had listened in on that conversation and some of her smooth shimmery locks could be attributed to their chatter. Oh the irony, Hermione thought to herself with a soft laugh. For years, I despised the two of them and their constant talking and here I am finally rid of it and wanting nothing more than to have it back. Silly girl, she murmured.

The fear was almost overwhelming now, she could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. Taking the easy route and going into autopilot, she went through the motions she had gone through ever since the day Voldemort had died. Turn the shower to scalding. Strip off. Tie up hair. Climb into the bottom of the shower. Curl into a small ball. Cry for an undermined length of time, usually until the water runs cold.

Tonight however, the strain had been extra. Hermione stayed in the bottom of the shower long after the water had run cold. She sat shivering, legs crossed and lips blue. Eventually, Crookshanks gentle meowing at the door stirred her from within herself and she stood on numb legs. Retrieving his food from the cupboard, she filled bowl in the small kitchen area and stumbled over to her bed. Here she remained for the rest of the night, watching the shadows on the wall with exhaustion clawing at her eyes but firmly refusing to sleep.

Down in the dungeons, Snape was also staring at the shadows dancing across the walls. Through his window into the Black Lake, he could see Grindylow whipping about in great fronds of lakeweed. The giant squid had been particularly active tonight, possibly due to the hustle and bustle of the students returning. It didn't do anything to ease the loneliness in his heart. Possibly, that was his only emotion. Loneliness mixed in with a healthy dose of loathing. They went hand in hand really. He didn't see any point in putting energy into unnecessary emotions, like joy or love. They'd never served him well and he didn't think they ever would. Time had taught him that. Lily had taught him that. On his weaker days, when it felt like a glimmer of emotion might sneak its way in-he drowned it into absolute oblivion.

He was much too tired to drown anyone in anything tonight and simply sat staring through the murky waters. Minerva had decided it was entirely appropriate to spend the entire feast filling his head with absolute drivel about grades, student behaviour and prefects. Being the Slytherin head of house was more of a challenge this year than ever before. Every person in silver and green felt the tension in the air, just as Severus himself did. The man had years' experience in such emotions, however the same could not be said for his students. They would have to learn. It would take time for the wounds to heal, though many of the students were victim-by-association. What a pain.

He was beginning to think the only perk of the entire situation was that he had been given permission to use the labs in whatever way he saw fit. Now that he wasn't spending his time pandering to a psychopath, Severus found he had some spare time under his belt and wanted to play around with some potions. The ideas rattled around in his head and had done for years, now they were itching to come out. One in particular came to mind and the sombre raven-haired man spent the remainder of the night scribbling down notes by floating candlelight.


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: This fic might get a little dark at times and will touch on mental health and similar themes, but don't fret as there will be happiness. I hope you all are enjoying reading as much as I am writing!

By mid-week, Hermione was an absolute wreck. The only thing she had managed to keep some form of order over was her hair, with the aid of sleekeazy's _and_ dry shampoo. She thought to herself that if she were to lose control over her hair, she might just go ahead and jump right into the Black Lake and never resurface. She was taking just about every class under the sun this year in a vain attempt to catch up on lost knowledge. That had been the plan anyway. Now that she was here, class after class exhausted her and Hermione had been horrified to discover that her love of studying had either up and deserted her or was hiding itself somewhere deep inside. She just didn't have the drive. Not even in Arithmancy, her favourite. However, Hermione did appear to be garnering a newfound love for potion making. Whilst she had always found the subject fascinating and Professor Snape had never put her off the way he had a thousand students before (which she was sure, by the way, frustrated him greatly), she was just now beginning to realise the wonder and complexity that was Potions.

Dragging herself down to dinner from her private dorm within the tower, Hermione stifled a groan when she saw Headmistress McGonagall's eyes hovering over her spindly form. She resisted the urge to pull her robes tighter around herself and tucked herself onto a bench beside the other Gryffindor 'eighth years'. Seamus was regaling the group with yet another tale of 'the hottest bird' he had been seeing over the summer.

Thinking that the boys would get a good laugh out of the story, her chest began to ache. She missed them dearly. Whilst their mid-war kiss had assured the pair they would never be more than friends, it didn't mean she didn't love Ron deeply. She enjoyed his and Harry's company, even when they were being absolute idiots. She made up her mind to write them both a good long owl before nibbling on a piece of corn in an attempt to eat something.

Severus knew from moment Minerva turned to him; she was going to ask him something that he really wasn't going to like. The old Scot had that look in her eye and he simply couldn't stifle the soft groan that slipped from his throat, causing her to lift one greying eyebrow.

"Now Severus, I haven't even asked ye yet, so could you please refrain from complaining until after the words are out of my mouth?" the woman huffed. Without awaiting a response, she continued "I'm not sure whether you've noticed it or not, but Ms Granger appears to be a bit out of sorts this year."

Severus could barely contain his eye-roll. "I'm not blind Minerva, but I don't see how I can be of service. Mentally damaged teenage girls aren't exactly my strong point." The woman stiffened and Severus sighed, relenting. "Go on, then."

"Well", she started. "Hermione hasn't been paying a lick of attention in Transfiguration, Septima said she is much the same in Arithmancy. _Arithmancy_, Severus. You know how much the girl loves the subject." At this knowledge, Severus raised an eyebrow. This was news to him.

"How has she been doing in your classroom? I noticed her reading a potions book at dinner yesterday evening."

He thought hard, wondering if there was any wording that could possibly get him out of the situation he sensed he was about to face-plant in. After years of sneaking around and deceiving others, he just didn't have it in him to lie.

"She is doing fine, Minerva. Even more insufferable than previous years if I am being entirely honest. She seems to have developed a.. deeper liking for Potions." The worry lines upon the Headmistresses face eased a little at this news.

"I thought as much", she murmured. "Will you help her?"

"What, exactly, do you propose I do?" the man countered.

"Her spark is in there somewhere, I'm sure of it. I don't know exactly what is going on, but I do know something is severely wrong. Could you try to use potions as a way of reaching out?"

Severus gazed in the direction of the Gryffindor table, thinking. As if her ears were burning, the girl in question glanced up. Their eyes locked. Unimaginable black against soulful pools of brown. Polar opposites. He tore his gaze away and muttered to Minerva, "I do not promise anything, but I will try."

Hermione tried her absolute best to remain calm when she caught the two teachers in whispered discussion, their eyes darting to her occasionally. She really did try. But, when Professor Snape's eyes locked with hers for a moment, that was it. The panic overtook her and with a stuttered excuse to her friends about feeling sick, she fled the great hall as fast as her legs could manage. She wandered aimlessly, trying and failing to control her breathing. By the time she had gained enough sense to survey her surroundings, the young woman had made her way to the Astronomy tower. She shivered, suddenly feeling a new kind of fear.

The area was dark, so she cast a soft "lumos". This was the place where Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore. It had all been part of a grand plan, cooked up by Dumbledore himself. Some part of Hermione had always known the sour potions master wasn't the enemy and that same part hated Dumbledore for what he had put the man through. She slid down to the floor and thought back to those piercing black eyes. Looking up into the star scattered sky, her analytical mind couldn't help but note the similarities.

Severus felt a strange urge to go after the girl when she leapt up like a unicorn caught in the headlights of the Weasley's flying car. It disappeared after less than a second though and he stood, turning and stalking down to the dungeons. You stupid, old fool Severus. How on earth are you going to get through to the girl? She is quite clearly an _absolute_ mess. Why did you agree to such a foolhardy errand clearly beyond your capabilities? A voice somewhere within his dunderheaded brain answered him. Because you know how it feels, the voice said. And if that isn't enough, do it because she helped to save you. He couldn't disagree there; she was one of the small group of students who had found him at the end of the war as he lay bleeding and poisoned. But, he could see a large flaw in the Headmistresses plan. He was a greasy old bat, her potions master and near twenty years her senior. How was he going to get her to speak two words to him outside of the classroom, let alone _open up_ to him? He could feel a deep headache coming on, and decided tonight he wasn't too tired to drown himself in Firewhiskey. His last thought before he lost consciousness was the irony of the situation.


	4. Chapter Four

Hello and I'm sincerely sorry. It is winter here in New Zealand and I've been written off by a flu for the last week and a half! But, I'm on the mend now and rearing to go. I hope you all have been well.

By the end of the first week back at Hogwarts, fighting through the exhaustion on top of attending classes was standard practice for Hermione. She was mildly surprised; she had expected to break down completely and hex the whole school (or at least some of it) before Friday. Potions was her last period of the day and as soon as Professor Snape motioned that the class may leave, she gathered her things and stood.

"Not so fast, Ms Granger", came the cool silky voice from the front of the room.

The girl felt tears prickle in her eyes and vaguely registered the notion of their absurdity. Hermione didn't cry in front of people. Ever. Even as she stood over Fred, Tonks, Remus and countless other lifeless forms in the great hall, her hands rubbed comforting circles on Molly and Ginny's backs. That night, the girl hadn't shed a tear until the shower was nice and hot. It was just what Hermione Granger did. The entire war, she had dedicated herself to getting the boys through and helping Harry. It was ironic that she was now the one who needed saving, but didn't know how to save herself and was too proud to ask for help.

Shaking herself from her reverie, Hermione mustered the words "Yes, Professor?"

"Come here."

Hermione really didn't feel like getting a bollocking from Professor Snape today, but she was sensible enough to know that should she defy him, her punishment would be much worse. After making her way to his desk, she was surprised when the man said nothing more to her. He simply handed over a vial of dreamless sleep and waved her away.

Severus stared at the girls retreating back, wondering if he should have said more. After his talk with Minerva, he had paid more attention than usual to the tawny haired girl. He saw the deep bags below her eyes, barely covered by her Glamour charm. He could feel the faint magic of a glamour charm on her arm too. Curious. Snape didn't need to be a genius to figure out that she wasn't getting enough sleep, so the first logical step was to ensure she got some before he took any further action. That was what he had told Minerva anyway. She didn't need to know he still hadn't a clue how to deal with the situation and was absolutely buying more time.

Turning the small vial over in her hands, Hermione sat lost in thought. The gesture was so out of character, it had thrown her off guard. She was so confused in fact, that fear was yet to make an appearance even though she had been alone in her dorm the past ten minutes. Her dorm room window gave her a brilliant view of the Forbidden Forest and her focus had been caught by the shining white of a unicorn as it roamed through the trees. Instead of being joyed by the creature as she would have once felt, the queasy stirrings of stress began in the pit of her stomach. Her mind went to her first year at Hogwarts, when Professor Quirrell had drunk the silvery white unicorn blood to keep the dark lord alive. Filthy. She shuddered, quickly making her way to the bathroom and closing the heavy wood door.

Hermione couldn't deny that her dorm was beautiful, this was especially true for the bathroom. Professor McGonagall had done an incredible job of doing it up and the girl knew it was the older woman's way of thanking her for her aid in several situations throughout the past years. Her bathtub rivalled that of even the Prefects, with self-watering ferns and a glittering water feature running straight into the tub. There was a small cupboard stocked with every kind of coloured, scented bath oil Hermione could think of and a large ornamented mirror on the opposing wall. Despite all this, she was yet to use any of it aside from the relatively simple shower. Deciding tonight would be the first night, she chose a bath oil labelled 'Apple Pie' and poured a generous amount into the steaming water.

Hermione was not the only one to spot the unicorn that night and word spread quickly. The beast was the first to be spotted in the Forbidden Forest since the end of the war. It was the first creature at all, really. Witches and Wizards, pureblood or otherwise, had lost the trust of forest dwellers. Severus Snape was not a man to miss an opportunity and he promptly donned his cloak. Unicorn hairs were a potent ingredient and extraordinarily hard to procure-especially when there were no unicorns. The air outside the castle was crisp, steadily becoming cooler as he ventured further into the forest. His wand was in his right hand, every night after darkness fell it was either in his grip or near enough. By the time he had collected four of the precious hairs, it was two in the morning. Severus went back to his chambers, his mind whirring with possibilities. He was beginning to develop a plan.

Hermione awoke around noon on Saturday. She felt…better. Not fantastic. Not even okay, but better. The bags below her eyes looked a little less like suitcases and she could still smell the remnants of cinnamon and apple on her skin. She had taken the full vial of dreamless sleep as soon as she had left the bath and remembered nothing of the night before. It was a comforting change from her usual nightmares. Luna, Neville and a few others were on their way to Hogsmeade. Hermione joined them to purchase a few new books, she had already read through all of her new potion's books. What she really wanted though, wasn't something she could buy. Some time before the war, Harry had taken a potions textbook from the cupboard. That year, his potions had been outstanding. Her and Ginny had managed to sneak it off him and in the end they had hidden it in the Room of Requirement. She thought of the book's owner, as she had done more times than she could count today. Professor Snape. As the trio left Hogsmeade, Hermione determined to return to the Room and find the Half Blood Prince's textbook.


	5. Chapter Five

Everybody wants something from me! Today, I said nope. Now I am curled up on the couch, tea and laptop in hand to immerse myself in Hogwarts. I hope you are all doing well and as always, thank you for reviews and love.

The Room of Requirement had suffered considerable damage during the final war, as had the rest of Hogwarts Castle. Because it was so imbued with magic, the room had taken much longer to restore to any form of order and some lasting scorch marks from the fire remained. When Hermione opened the door, she thought for sure that there was no hope of the potions book having survived. She sat in the centre of the piles which hadn't been ravaged by flame and placed her head into her hands. Closing her eyes, the girl fell deep into a memory.

She could feel the lick of heat against her legs and smell smoke as the fire below consumed years of treasured junk. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle flew behind them, periodically firing off curses. Eyes still closed, Hermione's body began to tremble as the memory reached its peak. This was the worst part.

She remembered the explosion that had very nearly engulfed all of them. Her last memory of Vincent Crabbe was the look of realisation and regret on his face during the final moments of his self made destruction. He had lit that fire, and he had died in it. She left without finding the book.

Severus had barely managed a wink of sleep, despite crawling into his chambers chilled to the bone and shivering. When slumber did finally overtake him, his head was full of sickening dreams about the war and a familiar line up of faces appeared. Each one, he had killed or stood idly by as someone else did the deed. They haunted him. In his sleep, in his waking moments. Sometimes, even when his brain was drowning in alcohol- they were the one thing it held on to. He would never forgive himself for the things he had done. Nothing could ever make up for the sins.

Maybe if he were able to save one more soul, Severus' wounded heart would hurt a little less. He was willing to try. The process however, had to be approached delicately. Very, very delicately. Being a meticulous man, he had the rough sketches of a plan tucked away in his head. He wanted to tackle two birds with one stone: save the girl and create a potion which would help those in the same or similar positions as he and she. While he didn't know exactly what was wrong with Hermione, he recognised enough of the symptoms to understand her suffering. Severus thought that he could create a potion with the same soothing aspects of dreamless sleep. The difference between the two potions, if all went to plan, was that the drinker would remain awake.

Hermione managed to make it through the next week relatively unscathed, all the way up until dinner on Friday night. Her long deep sleep the weekend before had brought with it a taste of normality, for which a craving had developed. The next night she had also managed a solid sleep. By mid-week however, it was as though the weekend had never occurred. When the nightmares returned, they returned with a vengeance. It was almost enough to send her back to Professor Snape for more of his Dreamless Sleep, yet still her foolish stubbornness overrode the urge. So, when it came to Friday night Hermione was a tired bundle of wrecked nerves. All it took was one badly timed Periculum by Seamus(which sort of sounded like an explosion) and she was screaming.

Severus' was one of many heads which turned in the direction of Gryffindor table. A quite frankly horrific scream was ringing out across the Great Hall and before he had even laid eyes on her, the man knew from whom it came. The scream was raw, honest and bloodcurdling, many students looked afraid. Some even had their wands drawn. There was a bustle around the girl as her friends desperately tried to calm her. As suddenly as it had appeared, the sound stopped. Hermione practically flew from the room, a tangled mess of robes and hair flowing around her. Ginny and a few others looked as though they were about to go after her, but Snape knew that as much as they were doing a kindness in their minds it would never end well. The girl had already been torn, now she was flat out broken. "Minerva, don't let them go after her. They won't be able to help."

"But Severus"

"Now, Minerva!" The normally monotone potions professor voice held a tone of urgency which the Headmistress rarely heard. She no longer resisted.

"Students! Students. Please return to your seats and remove your wands from our dinner table. Continue to eat, we have not yet indulged in dessert ".

Piles of ice cream, decadent chocolate fountains and an assortment of cakes filled the tables and Severus took this time to slip away quietly. He headed down to his rooms and grabbed three or four vials of potion from his stores. Then, the man paused. Hogwarts was huge and he hadn't a clue where Ms Granger had fled to. He wracked his brains for anything that might give him an idea. Miraculously, his generally unhelpful mind brought forth a conversation he had heard between Ms Granger and Mr Weasley some years ago. Ronald had been complaining that the girl didn't pay enough attention to him and was always "staring at the stupid stars, they're only big balls of fire you know Mione". The Astronomy Tower. It was a longshot, but it was all he had.

Hermione didn't hear the man approach, partly due to the fact he was a spy and partly because she just didn't give a shit who or what came at her right now. She almost wished a dementor would come and suck her soul from her rather than face her classmates again. How embarrassing. A fresh bout of tears began to roll down pale cheeks as she recalled the incident again. How could she do that? She never did that. Poor Seamus. Poor me. They're all going to think I'm a right fruit loop now, she thought to herself. Well, it's the bloody truth isn't it.

"Miss Granger" Severus started, jolting the girl from her thoughts. He couldn't help but feel bad, which was awful. Severus didn't remember feeling sympathy without a good ladling of self-loathing and hatred to go with it. This was straight pity, pure and honest. Yuck.

"I'm sorry Professor. I don't know what came over me. I've never done that before, it won't happen again". Hermione gazed at her own feet, thoroughly unwilling to look up at the man, who had also been witness to her display.

"Yes, it will. Things are not as they were before and won't be the same again unless you take the correct steps to improve your health. While the war is over, it is clear that it is not over for you".

Hermione wanted to tell him to piss off. While she felt a strange companionship with the man (not that she would EVER be telling him such), she didn't like her own truths being told right to her face without hesitation. "I'm sorry" was all she said, shoulders slumping further down the wall and eyes still fixed on her laces.

"The students will forget once the next person makes a fool of him or herself. Don't worry yourself over the incident. It is done. However I should like to help you, if you weren't opposed to the idea. Of course, you would be helping me as well, so the benefit is mutual". He didn't know how much help she would actually be, but he had added the last bit in the hopes of seeming a little less like a creepy old man.

"How are you going to help me and how could I possibly be of any help to you? You seem to be more aware than I am of the state I am in"

"Would you be opposed to a meeting with the Headmistress and I to discuss a plan of sorts?"

"I suppose I haven't got anything to lose"

"Good. One of us will owl you with a time and place to meet. It would be prudent to enter your dorm room soon Ms Granger, or I will be supplying you with a cold potion as well as this". He handed her a vial of Dreamless Sleep and turned, robes swaying around him as he descended the steps.


	6. Chapter Six

Hey lovely people! Here's another chapter for you. Thanks for reviews and love as always and please excuse any errors, sometimes they slip through the cracks.

After Friday's mishap, Hermione felt sure that she was destined to spend the remainder of her Hogwarts year alone. Which was a shame, considering they were only a few weeks in. She still cringed when thinking about the great hall and wondered if she could avoid ever going in there again. Food wasn't an essential, right? When she finally dragged herself from her bed on Saturday afternoon and went to brave her peers, she couldn't open the dorm room door. Hermione's stomach roiled and her mind whirled with the potential ideas for what could be blocking her door. Traps, danger, bodies. Cold, lifeless eyes filled her head. All of these were less than likely, which logical Hermione Granger was well aware of. Post-war Hermione could not distinguish between reality and nightmare when fear took over.

The young woman took one, two, three deep breaths and magicked open the door. Wand at the ready, she stared in open eyed wonder at what lay before her. Bouquets of flowers, cards and an assortment of sweets were piled up before her. It took an hour to move everything from the hallway. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she magicked kitchen mugs into vase after vase. When she was done, her room looked more luscious than Professor Sprout's greenhouse. Her kitchen cupboards were full, there were enough sweets to last her until Christmas. It then took her two hours to read all the cards. It seemed that everyone was merely concerned for her. Seamus' flowers were the biggest bunch of all.

One package and card had stood out from the rest. They were plain black. The message within was short and to the point, spiky handwriting and all. _Ms Granger, I hope you are well. Please come to the Headmistress' office at 7.30pm on Tuesday night after dinner. P.S, please attempt to actually eat your dinner. SS._ Hermione's eyes lingered on the two initials. The box contained exactly three vials of dreamless sleep, enough to get her through until Tuesday night. Nerves prickled down her spine at the thought of her upcoming meeting. Try as she might, the girl couldn't figure any angle of the situation.

Severus had been on his way to Hermione's dorm room to inform her of the meeting when he encountered Seamus Finnegan and his closest idiots carrying a giant bunch of flowers. It was nearly half the size of the shorter boy's body. Slipping behind a pillar, he waited until the young men had left before tentatively resuming his mission. The man's eyebrows nearly met his hairline when he saw the spread before the girl's door. The ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. A genuine smile nearly appeared when he thought of what her reaction would be. For some strange reason, he wanted to hide and watch to see her face. Freak. Suddenly, he didn't want to see her. He didn't want to face her. He didn't know why. The Professor ripped a page from his notebook and transfigured a card and simple black envelope. Ripping out another page, he created a box and neatly placed three vials within it. He placed both on the edge of the mountain and turned away.

Tuesday night seemed to roll around in the blink of an eye. Hermione was a nervous wreck. She had cried on and off all day. Then, she had scolded herself for crying. Tidying up her blotchy cheeks the best she could, Hermione looked long and hard in the mirror. She didn't see herself anymore. She didn't know who she was looking at. At precisely 7.25pm, she stood dutifully outside the office. She wanted to wait a little longer, so as not to seem too eager. The reality was, she just wanted the whole meeting over so she could crawl back into her bed and oblivion. Having not spoken directly to the Headmistress since the incident, the girl was feeling her embarrassment deeply, all over again. From behind her, a deep voice stated "Do you enjoy standing around outside your Professors dwellings, Ms Granger. Or just the Headmistresses?"

Hermione's cheeks went bright red as she turned to face the voice and it's owner. "N-no, Sir. I just wanted to be on time is all"

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Typical. For the hundredth time today, he berated himself for ever letting Minerva sway him. This was going to be downright painful. Ah well, he would take her with him on a few short trips to collect ingredients and say he tried his best. He had filled the Headmistress in on his plan and she was considerably excited about it all. Turning back to the girl with a deadpan face he stated "Well I for one, do not intend to stand around outside. Come"

The Headmistress had already poured everyone a cup of tea. Hermione stared straight into her cup so as not to smirk, because Professor Snape had personalised his cup with a slosh of whiskey from his flask as soon as the older women had turned to retrieve biscuits. The girl nibbled the edges of one absently. When the pleasantries were through however, they got straight down to business. Professor McGonagall had stolen the show almost immediately, regaling a glorious tale of a magical potion which could be of huge help to the magical world in terms of "non-physical ailments". It all sounded quite exciting until the woman began to speak of all the required ingredients.

The basics were easy enough, they could obtain around half from the Forbidden forest alone. A few types of flower and animal hairs. However, Dreamless Sleep already had ingredients which were an effort to obtain and even then, half of these had to be exchanged in order to keep the drinker alive. The new ingredients were next to impossible. A type of Ivy which only grew under the snow in Alaska. It could take weeks to find. The eggshell of a dragon which lived and around Volcano's in the Pacific Islands. Dangerous for sure. The list went on and by the end, Hermione didn't think she would be of any help at all. "So..what exactly am I wanted for?"

"I would appreciate it if you could accompany me into the Forbidden Forest to obtain some of the necessary ingredients". The potions master looked mildly uncomfortable by now.

"My, Professor, you are going to need her for much more than that! Many of the harder ingredients require the hands of two people when storing or they become greatly compromised. You know this"

"I do not wish to remove the girl from too much of her schooling"

"Nonsense. Hermione can study whilst the two of you are away, can't you dear?"

"Minerva, I feel that we were on the wrong page when we discussed this. " Snape was getting stressed now, trying not to panic.

"He doesn't think I can do it. Or doesn't want to be stuck with a loony such as myself for any extended period of time. My apologies Professor, but you will need to find another means of collecting your ingredients. I'm sure it won't be hard since the ones you require assistance for are easily obtained."

Knowing she was being disrespectful but no longer caring, Hermione stood and exited the room.

"Well, that went rather fantastic don't you think?" Sarcasm and nastiness dripped from the words.

"I will see to the situ-"

"No, thank you. I will deal to it myself, seeing as I have yet again been painted as the villain. The girl will come with me for the entire process, but if this whole thing goes to hell-the blame does not fall on me alone"

"Very well, Severus. Thank you" The normally brash woman was subdued, quietly sipping her tea with eyes downcast. The man paused, as if to say something more. With a deep sigh, he too turned and left the room. He knew already where she would be and began to climb the steps of the Astronomy tower. When he got there, she was leaning over the edge of the rails with her arms flung wide. The wind whipped at her hair and gentle spits of rain mingled with tears against her pale cheeks. She looked strangely… beautiful. He watched her another moment, feeling like an utter creep. "Ms Granger", he started. Upon receiving no reply, he cast a warming charm over the girl. She had removed her robes and now stood in muggle jeans and a simple t-shirt. Goosebumps covered her arms and he thought he could see the faint outline of some sort of scar. She hadn't refreshed her Glamour today. Standing by one of the pillars, he simply waited.

Hermione had felt his presence even before he had reached the top of the stairs. She didn't want to see him. The wind and rain felt so good whipping against her face, reminding her she was still alive. It was bittersweet though, because each time she knew she was alive, she knew that others weren't. It seemed he would wait for her all night, standing there stupidly against a pillar, brooding. When his eyes began to feel as though they were burning a hole in her head, she turned. "Don't worry about it Professor. I understand perfectly and I appreciate the thought. There are no hard feelings". Surprisingly, this was true. She didn't feel hurt, angry or sad. She felt nothing.

"You will aid me throughout the entire potion, from start to finish including trialling. If it is successful, you will receive 50% of the profits of course. For two evenings next week we shall collect ingredients and in the following weeks, you will be absent for possibly entire weeks. Is this agreeable to you?". The face, expression, voice were all deadpan but inside the man's heart pounded. It always did in the face of rejection. Hermione was so shocked, caught on the spot that she simply said "yes".

"I will owl you with details". Severus had never felt more a foolish, freakish old man than right in this moment. He had barely closed the door to his rooms before the bottle was in his hands.


	7. Chapter Seven

It's a bit of a short chapter but I wanted to get something out for you guys! Finally, some proper interaction between the two! Maybe there'll be another chapter pretty soon, tee-hee. Thanks for the love, especially to Lucyole, who added some fuel to my fire for this story.

They had decided on Tuesday evening for the first ingredient collection, which rolled around much faster than Severus would have liked. He had his signature potions bag with him, glass vials gently chinking against each other with every step. Tonight, they were collecting a few simple ingredients from the edge of the Forbidden forest. It was a test. Not of Hermione, for he knew she would excel, but of the entire situation. He didn't know how to act or react. The girl's moods were incredibly unpredictable, and Severus found himself preferring not to be the cause of any more tears. He didn't know when his conscious had started growing.

Hermione waited patiently, just beyond the doors which would lead the way to the Forbidden forest. She had decided on muggle clothing, as it was much easier to manoeuvre in than robes. It would be easier to escape in an attack. The last of the sunlight cast a pinkish glow about the trees and a few stubborn birds still chirped, refusing sleep until the darkness took hold. Where she was five minutes early, her Professor was two minutes late. He emerged from within the doorway and almost had the grace to appear apologetic.

"Are you warm enough? It will be cold by the time we return to the Castle." Severus eyed her attire sceptically, feeling the chill even through his own thick robes.

"I'm fine, Professor. What are we collecting tonight?" Hermione was mostly over her animosity towards the man. However, she couldn't help but prod a little. "I'm sure it's nothing too influential. Perhaps the lunar moss which gives the potion its identifying colour?"

"Are you implying that being able to tell which potion is against your lips is not of import?"

Damn. She hadn't thought that through. She really was an idiot.

"It seems prudent to acquire our ingredients in the order which we require them, correct?"

"Yes, sir"

The continued in an awkward, subdued silence for what felt like hours. Eventually, they came to a clearing of luscious green moss. When cut, the heart shaped tip of the moss would leak a purple substance. If you got so much as a drop somewhere you didn't want it, it would remain purple for the foreseeable future.

"Ms Granger, would you be so kind as to collect three vials of fluid? I am going to check the trees for Mistletoe"

Hermione got to work immediately, determined to prove herself to the Professor. She was just getting into the swing of things when, on her third vial, a tree branched above her creaked. She jumped, dropping the vial as she went. Severus returned a minute later to find the girl sitting amongst the moss, large splotches of purple covering her clothing and tears trickling down her pale cheeks once again. Inwardly, he groaned.

"Ms Granger, are you alright?"

"I broke the third vial, Sir. I jumped because a tree branch creaked. A TREE BRANCH" She was getting worked up now, her anger seeping in. "How am I ever going to function in society again, if I am afraid of a tree"

"The part you played in the war was pivotal Her-Ms Granger. Had you not sacrificed so much, there is a very good chance that tree wouldn't even be around to scare you-let alone you to be scared. I have found that the most efficient way to deal to one's fears is to simply face them, let the feeling come and then be free of it"

Hermione's mind was whirring. He had almost called her by her first name. She whizzed through all the implications of this. He saw her as more than a student. Maybe even respected her? More than that, the man had implied he faced fears of his own. Could Professor Snape have fears? The concept was farfetched. She tried to imagine him scared, crying. The image wouldn't come.

You stupid, blundering idiot. You went to use her first name. What in the seven hells compelled you to such foolishness? Now she will think you _are_ a creep. Severus had expected to see disgust marring her features, but her expression was mainly surprise. Maybe he hadn't just blown everything.

They went back to collecting their ingredients, both lost in contemplative silence. By the time the pair had finished, it was midnight. Hermione was a little spooked now, the dark gaps between the trees becoming more human-like by the minute. She was reluctant to admit her discomfort, instead slowing moving closer to the Potions Master as he collected. She didn't realise how close she was until he turned and bumped into her. She felt the soft material of his robe brush against her cheek as he steadied himself. For some reason she had expected it to be scratchy. She wanted to press her face against it. He smelled heavenly too, a mixture of pine trees and other warm spices. Hermione was taken aback. Whilst she had never thought about what the man would smell like, she wouldn't have picked it to be this. Hermione flushed, realising she was being rather strange.

Severus had felt their skin connect, though the contact was minimal. The tip of her finger had grazed the back of his hand as he moved away from her. She had warm hands. He imagined it was quite soft. He firmly refused to acknowledge why he had thought of that. Why was she standing so close to him, were they in danger? Looking around, he saw the forest from the eyes of someone who rarely entered it. Spooky. Ah, that was probably it. He knew the girl would never say anything, so he stated that they were finished and could travel back to the castle. After agreeing to meet the very next evening, again just after sunset, they parted ways. He down to the dungeons, her up to her dorms in the tower.


	8. Chapter Eight

Thank you for the seriously lovely reviews. I cherish each one. I am in my last few weeks of university for the year… once it's over I guess I'll just have to write this story-gotta keep the brain active, right? Happy reading!

Every evening from the second one onwards Severus made sure that he was precisely on time. Ms Granger was already waiting for him, preferring to be early. Tonight, she was dressed in sleek denim jeans and a thick red woollen jumper. Black tramping boots, ever the practical type. A burgundy beany with tastefully sized pompom finished the outfit. She looked… good. Grown up. Aside from the pompom. He was going to hell; Severus was damn sure of that. He didn't even try to divert the thoughts when they came now. The second evening he had noticed the curve of her hips as she bent to pick a lilac. He noticed the smoothness of her skin in the moonlight as she tucked the flower behind her ear and the way the purple colour complimented her lips. By the time Friday had rolled around, Severus didn't have the will to fight the thoughts. It was purely because he was severely deprived in all forms of physical contact. It seemed that some of his humanity was seeping back in now that his life wasn't in constant danger.

The hardest part of Hermione's evenings was trying not to linger on the smell of her potions master. She knew how inappropriate, if not downright creepy it was. She didn't know why it was in her head. Should Professor Snape had even an inkling that she thought he smelled good, he would call the entire project off. Even if it didn't disgust him, though Hermione was sure it would, he was very serious about his position at Hogwarts and the respect of his students. Attempting a distraction, she forced herself to consider the long night ahead. They were venturing the furthest she had ever been into the Forbidden Forest. It made her stressed, long strands of curly hair coming away from her head as she brushed it. Just another thing to add a glamour to, if it got bad. She was used to it. Hermione was never one to consider looks, falling for the personality within instead. The girl was least of all concerned with her own looks, considering herself rather plain. The sleekeazy and mascara were nothing more than steps to ensure people didn't clue on to the severity of her ill health.

This part of the Forbidden Forest always made Severus feel uncomfortable. When the Dark Lord had first recruited his services, they convened here. There were creatures that lurked behind every tree. If you thought you saw something, it's because you did. He didn't tell Ms Granger this. She was jittery but trying her best to hide it. By midnight, they had reached their destination. A huge tree, hundreds of years old loomed above them. Red berries glistened in the moonlight and a smell resembling honey-suckle filled the night air. It was breath-taking. And awkwardly romantic. Snape hurried over to the base of the tree, pulling a pair of self-cutting scissors from his bag.

"It's beautiful sir, what is it?"

"Knighta excellum"

"I've never even heard of it, or seen it in any book"

Severus' lip quirked into an almost smile, though his back was still turned to her. "There is a reason for that Ms Granger. This is the last one. Very few people know about it and only those who understand it's importance. Should word spread-it would be pillaged before you could say magic"

"I won't tell anyone, Professor"

He didn't think she would. He was surprised at himself, for not even thinking of that. Fool, double fool. Just because the war was over didn't mean he could be a soft, dunderheaded old man now. He would have to be careful from now on. Turning his full attention to the task at hand he set the self-cutting scissors to work on a thick root of the tree, which proceeded to shake like a dog with wet fur. Hermione's eyes went wide with wonder. The tree seemed to like what was going on.

Seeing her face, Severus told her that it was rather like losing an older, damaged limb in exchange for a new one. His heart caught in his throat however, when she gazed down at her glamoured arm. Guilt washed over him in a powerful wave. Hermione met his eyes, flushing red as she realised he had been watching. The tree was still enjoying its trim behind them, shaking its leaves about. A small bunch of the red berries fell into the space between them. _Thank god._ Severus picked up a handful and held his hand out.

"Try it. They taste like tiny apples"

Grateful to move on from the awkward moment, Hermione popped one into her mouth.

"They do taste like apples!"

"I don't say these things for fun, Ms Granger"

The scissors stopped their administrations and tucked themselves neatly back into Severus' bag. By now, both parties were stretched to their emotional limits and happy to head back to their respective dormitories. Hermione would rather the fear that came with being alone, than the confusing awkward feelings she was beginning to have around her professor. Better the devil she know than the devil she didn't.

Sleep would not come easy for the potions master. He stood under the heat of the shower, water stinging his open eyes. He couldn't close them, for each time a pair of soft pink lips came to mind. Lots of women had soft pink lips. He could be thinking of anyone. Lily had lovely lips. Severus silenced the small voice, turning his thoughts to more practical avenues. No room for emotions here. Tomorrow, he needed to ask Ms Granger if she would accompany him to San Benedicto. It was a muggle island within the Pacific Ring of Fire. He wasn't certain but he had a hunch that a standard volcanic bacteria would work better than the magical counterpart he had been experimenting with. It wouldn't surprise him if she said no. It would be easier for everyone if she said no, he could employ the help of someone more experienced. So why then, did a little piece of him desperately want her to say yes?


	9. Chapter Nine

Two chapters in two days, whattt! I'm not avoiding my responsibilities in favour of spending time with Hermione and Severus… Speaking of which, how do you lot think Hermione takes her tea? Thank you for the extra kind words lately, I hope you guys are enjoying the story as much as I am.

Severus was pacing the hallway outside Hermione's dorms. He recognised the irony in this, having given her a hard time over the exact thing a mere week before. He wondered if this was the way she had felt standing before the Headmistresses office. Probably not. His anxiety and fear of rejection tended to amplify situations like this until he could barely knock on someone's door. Stupid childhood. The Professor had stayed awake into the early hours of Friday night, mulling over the various ways to ask a student to accompany them to a remote pacific island. A _female_ student no less. Eventually, it had become too much and his bottle of Ogden's beckoned. He was given no more chance for thought, as her door swung open and she just about walked into him again.

"Oh! Professor Snape, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there"

"Have you ever considered that you may need glasses, Ms Granger?" It came out harsher than he intended, causing him to cringe internally.

To his relief the girl appeared to find his comment amusing, for her lips quirked up into a grin. The very beginnings of a tight feeling in his chest blossomed, which just about made him feel nauseous.

Hermione was surprised to find the Professor standing outside her door. She had been about to make her way down to the great hall for a late breakfast. Sleep hadn't come easy; her body was tired. If the notion hadn't been entirely absurd, Hermione would have sworn she almost saw a blush on her professor's face. Maybe she really did need glasses.

"Come in, Sir. I was about to head down to the great hall for breakfast, but I haven't the appetite really. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Caught off guard by her unusually brazen attitude, Severus frowned and considered her offer. It should have seemed highly inappropriate, but it didn't feel that way. He supposed that nothing about their dealings so far this year had been the same as it was in previous ones. The lines between student and…acquaintance?, they were beginning to blur. Besides, he needed to speak with her anyway and could slip some whiskey into his tea when she wasn't looking.

"That would be convenient, I was on my way to speak with you"

Surprised at herself, the girl widened her door and allowed him to step through. She took down two heavy mugs from the cupboard. Hers was a hand painted field of lavender, complete with a bumblebee. For him she chose a shimmering night sky, the silhouette of trees looming up from the ground.

"How do you take your tea, Professor?"

"Black please, one sugar." When the girl handed him the mug, he thought of how different it was from all of Minerva's fragile china cups. To his surprise, the tea was so good it didn't need his usual embellishment.

"Where did you get these mugs, Ms Granger? They are quite interesting"

Hermione thought that was close to a compliment from him. "I made them myself, sir. The summer before the war, my mother and I went to pottery classes together." The mention of her parents triggered a deep pang in her chest, she missed them more than she could put into words.

Severus didn't think she had the creative ability, so practical and methodical was she in her research. He was also acutely aware of the pain etched into her expression, so he hastened to broach the subject of his visit.

"Ms Granger, as you are aware, we have just about exhausted every resource within the forbidden forest. Most of the ingredients we require must now come from other, more distant locations. I do not trust myself to collect the ingredients alone and they are too valuable to risk damaging, however should you wish to remain here and focus on your studies I will be able to enlist the help of another."

Hermione sat back in her chair, staring out the window in thought. As she did so, Severus took the opportunity to look around her dorm. Really, he was just trying to fight off the nerves building in his stomach. You would think there wouldn't be anything that could bother him after all he had been through, but he felt damn frail. As far as he could tell, the dorm was made up of three spaces. Two closed doors, which must be her bedroom and bathroom. The lounge and kitchen space were comfortably blended, with a countertop table neatly dividing the two. Her couches were burgundy, worn so that you sunk deep into them when you sat down. There were fluffy black cushions and a dark oak coffee table. The couches faced the fireplace and he imagined it was quite the perfect place to read for hours on end. A tall bookshelf stood along one wall, brimming with both old and new books. The window overlooking the forest and part of the lake was slightly open, a gentle breeze blew into the room. After what felt like an age, she spoke.

"As long as the Headmistress is in agreement, I see no reason why I can't continue my studies as well as aid you with whatever help you need."

"I am appreciative. Are you prepared to leave this coming Monday?"

"The weekend will be sufficient time to prepare, Sir. Where are we headed?" She didn't want to appear too eager, but the small spark buried deep in her chest began to glow.

"San Benedicto. It is a small island in-"

"The Pacific. It is uninhabited, as far as I am aware. Muggle territory, Professor? What could we possibly need from there?"

"A particular bacteria found only in the volcanic material of the island. I believe it will be more effective in place of another ingredient. I must attend to some tasks, is it possible for you to meet me at the doors to the castle directly after breakfast Monday morning?"

"Of course, Sir"

Hermione spent the rest of Saturday deciding which outfits to take with her, thanking the high heavens for magic as she stuffed item after item into her magic bag. Once she was absolutely sure she had everything she would need, Hermione wandered into the Gryffindor common room to find Ginny. She wasn't sure how long she would be away for and wanted to make sure Crooks would be well looked after. She spent a lovely Sunday with Ginny and Luna, walking around the Black Lake and chatting in the girl's shared dorm room. Part of her mind was always occupied with thoughts of the week ahead and on Sunday night she took a long, extra scented bath.


	10. Chapter Ten

Hello, hello, hello! My apologies, it has been too long. On the bright side, I am free of university for four months! I'm so excited to be doing my own thing for a while. Please do let me know if the story is a little dry, she's definitely going to be a long one. They are finally out adventuring though-woohoo. Happy reading!

Hermione stared at the doors, hesitant to step beyond their solidity and safety. She had a feeling of foreboding, as if she wouldn't step back through them the same. Her friends had been mildly concerned about her departure and they voiced this. Ginny especially, who still referred to their Professor as a greasy old git. Glancing at her watch impatiently, Hermione sighed. The potions master was his usual few moments late, not enough to comment on but just enough to be annoying. When he did show, he carried a bag much like her own in one hand and his bag of tricks in the other. She noticed that he had shaved, she had become accustomed to the small smattering of stubble he had been letting grow since the war. He never let it go above a certain length though. He looked good either way, as far as she was concerned. _Pull yourself together Hermione_, she berated herself, wondering when she had begun paying so much attention to her Professor's facial features.

Severus had woken in the early hours of the morning with a pounding headache. That didn't happen often anymore, he must have gone through a fair amount of grog the night before. He remembered the reason for the excessive consumption and barely made it to the bathroom before heaving. Today he would be leaving for San Benedicto with Ms Granger. It shouldn't be that big of a deal. It wasn't as if they were muggles who could end up trapped there. He could always apparate, as could she. But for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that the trip would be irreversible in one way or another.

The pair stepped outside and the Professor held out his arm, without so much as a greeting. Hermione breathed in one final deep breath and took hold. They spun through the air, twisting and turning in a whirlwind. Feeling an overwhelming urge to be sick, Hermione steadied herself against the nearest solid object-Professor Snape. Instinctively, he took a hold of each arm as the swaying stopped. After a few moments, they both became aware of the hands on her upper arms. Severus pulled them away sharply, again cringing inwardly.

"I have arranged for two of the house elves which look after my home to accompany us. That way we can focus better on the research"

Hermione frowned, but knew better than to make a foolish comment about the treatment of house elves. She wanted to tread lightly, seeing as it was just he and she now. While her Professor had always been a good man, she didn't want to anger him. A death eater was still a death eater, good intentions or otherwise he was a powerful wizard and they were alone. Logical Hermione spoke up, reminding her how right miffed the Headmistress would be if any more attention were drawn to Hogwarts. He wouldn't dare. Shaking her head to remove such thoughts, she gazed around. The sun was low in the sky, but it was already balmy. There was very little vegetation and an arid smell hung in the air. Iguanas dotted the small strip of beach on which they had landed.

"The elves arrived an hour or so earlier and were directed to pitch a tent upon arrival."

"For some reason, I thought it would be more… alive."

"It is an active volcano Ms Granger, not a playground."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione trailed along silently behind the brooding man until they reached a large cream coloured tent. Instantly, panic set in. On the outside, it looked nearly identical to the Weasley's charmed tent. Memories of Fred, George and laughter flooded her mind before being rapidly replaced with the sickening image of the clouds and the skull that was nestled within them that night. She stood frozen, not daring to go any further but not wanting to draw attention to herself. The professor was already inside. Hermione blinked back tears and gulped down air. She felt frustrated, sad, lost. Why couldn't she just get over it?

Severus hadn't noticed his companion remain outside and was busy ensuring their accommodation was sound. There were three rooms, a bedroom each and between them a large kitchen and lounge type space. He had figured there would be no need for anything too serious, as they would be two or three nights at most. The house elves had done an excellent job and he quietly told them so as he dismissed them, stating he would call again should their services be required. He turned to ask Ms Granger which room she would prefer, frowning when he realised, she was outside. Stepping over the tent's threshold, he saw her. The girl faced away from him, the long tawny curls which tumbled down her back gently blowing in the wind. She was looking out over the ocean, toward the horizon. He was unsure how to proceed, not wanting to ruin the moment. Eventually he felt a creep and gently cleared his throat, stirring his student from her reverie.

"Do you have a preference of rooms, Ms Granger?"

"Anything is fine, thank you". She seemed preoccupied, so he re-entered the tent and picked the left room. He pulled his large black duvet from the magical bag and laid it over the temporary bed. Satisfied with his sleeping arrangements, the man set his potions bag on the table and sat down to study his notes.

Hermione had turned away from the tent and cast her gaze intently on the line where sea met air. She took some deep, steady breaths and actually appreciated the strange smell. It grounded her. She wasn't at a late night quidditch match, with metallic droplets of blood mingling with the scent of thick luscious grass. She was on an active volcano. The fear relented slightly, giving way to a flutter of excitement. With a final deep breath, Hermione spun and entered the tent.

"Have you ever been diving?"

"Only once, on holiday with my parents. It was snorkelling though; I've never dived with a tank"

"We won't be using tanks, Ms Granger. I have made a potion to allow us to breathe underwater, as the only way to access the volcanic pit which we seek is through an underwater crevice"

The pair decided it was best to survey the entryway first, to know what they were up against. Hermione was again thankful for magic as she transfigured her rash top into a wetsuit. She still felt self-conscious though, as the material hugged her body tightly.

Professor Snape had also donned a wetsuit and the two entered the water from the beach they had landed on. The volcano above ground may have been sterile, but the surrounding ocean was anything but. The volcanic material gave rise to luscious seaweeds, throughout which colourful fish darted. Crabs wandered along the sandy beds, snipping at small shrimp. It was breath-taking. The two located the large opening within the wall and surveyed it before surfacing again.

"That was incredible sir!"

Severus couldn't help but give a small grin, he himself was in awe. By the time they had changed clothes, it was already late in the afternoon. Thick clouds were beginning to develop, hanging ominously over the island. Both parties had bought books with them, which they promptly buried themselves in. A little over an hour later, the downpour began. Lightening illuminated the tent, casting shadows on the walls. Hermione felt anxious but was comforted by the presence of an experienced wizard. Should anything happen, she would be fine. She trusted him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Hello sweet readers! Your lovely reviews make me blush and I am glad you are enjoying the story. It's rainy weather over here in New Zealand at the moment, which provides the perfect excuse to stay at home and write…

Hermione awoke to the sound of pots and pans clattering together, some time around mid-morning. The girl was bleary eyed, curly hair bouncing as her arms stretched high above her head. She looked around, panic setting in when she remembered her location and what the time was. Shoot. Professor Snape would probably have her head. She hurriedly pulled on her clothes and tip toed into their makeshift living area, wincing when she saw the Professor seated at the folding table with the daily prophet.

"I would have pegged you as an early riser, Ms Granger. You seem to have every other meticulous quality."

Hermione frowned, but chose to ignore the comment. She sunk her teeth into a piece of toast generously covered with marmalade, thanking the house elves as she did so. The potions master quirked an eyebrow.

"Speaking with food in your mouth as well, how charming."

Deciding that Professor Snape mustn't have had a very good sleep, Hermione finished her breakfast and rose to exit the tent.

"Where do you think you are going, Ms Granger?"

His droning voice made her want to tear her hair out sometimes. "Outside, if that is acceptable to you Sir." She was becoming cheekier by the day and she knew it.

"Very well. Don't go far. We are collecting the bacteria soon."

Stepping outside the tent, Hermione's eyes widened in wonder. What had been a sparse, barren landscape had seemingly transformed overnight. The wizened brown plants had sprung to life in the heavy rains, some even sporting bright blooms. The iguana's munched away happily on seaweed bought in by the tides and seabirds cawed above her.

Severus had already been outside and could imagine perfectly the look on Ms Granger's face when she stopped a mere foot outside the tent. He himself had been awed at the miracle of muggle life. Her amber eyes would likely be the size of saucers, absorbing it all and filing it away in that brain of hers.

An hour later, the two donned their suits. This time however, Severus packed a small waterproof bag with some heatproof glass vials.

"When I have collected the lava into the vial, I need you to cast a spell on it immediately to keep it from cooling. A simple stasis charm should suffice." He handed her a pair of gloves, explaining that they were heat resistant.

They dove into the waters which were teeming with even more life than before. Upon reaching the opening in the rock, Severus went first. Hermione was mildly claustrophobic and felt her nerves flutter as she swum into the darkened cavern. They swum a few metres through the cavern before surfacing into a cave, with a large air pocket. Hidden in one of the cave's corners, dimly lighting the small area, was a bubbling pool of lava. Severus hoisted himself out of the water onto the rocky platform before offering his hand to Hermione. As she took it, their eyes connected. The Professor pulled her up and quickly released her, turning away. He had bought his wand with him, tucked tightly against his chest within the wetsuit. Pulling it out, he waved it over the lava. Aha. It showed positive for the bacteria he sought.

"The bacteria is present. Get ready to cast the heating charm."

Carefully teasing the lava into the glass vial with his wand he held it out to Hermione, who quickly cast the charm. Once they had collected four vials of the hot material, Severus motioned for them to leave.

Back on the safety of land, Professor Snape congratulated her. "A very successful collection, Ms Granger."

Inwardly, Hermione glowed at the compliment. It was a lot coming from him. Outwardly, she quietly thanked him. A mere two hours later, she sat back in her dorm at Hogwarts. Somehow, it felt lonelier than ever and she found herself wishing to be back in the tent on Benedicto. She assured herself that this was purely because Professor Snape was the kind of company she enjoyed. Happy to read a book, rather than pester her like Ronald or Harry. His dry humour was something she was beginning to appreciate too. As much as she was hesitant to admit it, she was beginning to see him as almost… an acquaintance. That alone was highly inappropriate. She would never tell him or lead on how she viewed him, for fear of being kicked off the assignment.

Hermione wasn't the only one who felt the loneliness of their empty room. After dutifully filling Minerva in on the trip, the potions master had retired to the dungeons. He sat staring at the vials of lava now carefully placed in a glass rack on his desk. Next week, he planned on going to Yakutsk, Russia. The ingredient required was the blood of a pale fish living in the frozen lakes on the region's outskirts. It was translucent and contained natural antifreeze, developed through years of evolution. Much better than anything he himself could engineer. Severus wanted this potion to be a winner, second to none in its abilities and resistant to all environmental conditions. The bacteria would help it withstand flame and the antifreeze the opposite. The fish were hard to find however, and he expected that should Ms Granger agree to accompany him they would be gone the full week. He thought about owling the girl a note, then decided he would pop in on Saturday morning same as last week. It was much more efficient to explain in person, he rationed, and had nothing to do with her ability to make a stellar cup of tea.

As he had done last weekend, Professor Snape knocked sharply on Hermione's door mid-morning Saturday. Again, she invited him in and served him tea in the starry mug. He noticed that she didn't look well, there were deep bags under her eyes and he suspected she hadn't slept at all. The truth was Hermione had been plagued with terrible nightmares not long after falling asleep. She had awoken to the sound of her own screams and hadn't slept for the remainder of the night. It took a toll on her emotions and she wasn't her usual inquisitive self today.

"Should I be worried that a pig is about to fly past the window, Ms Granger? You haven't harassed me with any senseless questions as of yet this morning"

Hermione barely mustered a smile. "Sorry Professor, I didn't sleep very well and must admit I am out of sorts today." She felt the urge to tell him more, but held her tongue. The potions master had much better things to do than be bombarded with her state of mental disrepair.

Severus sensed that Hermione was downplaying her state of mind. He let it slide however, bringing up his next proposition for her instead. "Have you ever been to Russia, Ms Granger?" To his surprise, the girl's eyes lit up and she leaned forward slightly in her seat.

"No, Sir. But I've absolutely always wanted to. It just looks so beautiful. All that wilderness and empty space, it must be incredible."

"I am going next week." He stated, unceremonious as always. "For fish", he added as an afterthought.

"Okay. Monday again?"

"Indeed. Ensure that you pack some winter clothing Ms Granger, and make it warm. I know your penchant for dressing inappropriately for the weather. We will likely be gone the entire week, this fish is hard to find."

Again, Hermione filled her magic bag with outfits, adding her cinnamon and apple bath oil as an afterthought. On Sunday night she settled down and cuddled up to Crookshanks, who was seemingly miffed at her sudden disappearances.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Hello hello hellooo. I've spent a lot of time in front of my computer these last few days, so here is another chapter for you all. I've edited the first two as well, so they are easier to read! Thank you as always for your kind and enthusiastic words. Time for another change of scenery…

Monday morning rolled around and the pair met at the doors to Hogwarts Castle, as was their routine. Severus held out his arm, didn't say a word, apparated them away. Hermione was used to it, although she didn't know why he didn't greet her upon arriving. Thankfully, Professor Snape had informed her on Saturday that she need not worry about the tent as he had found a cabin suitable for their needs. They apparated to the front porch and Hermione found it hard to contain her excitement. The ground was covered in a thick foot of snow, which also dusted the tall straight pine trees surrounding the cabin. The snow crunched underfoot, accentuated by the dead silence surrounding them. It was almost eerie and every part as magical as the young woman had imagined it in her daydreams. The little cabin was absolutely darling, much to Severus' disgust. He uttered something about "ridiculous" and "fairytale" before making his way inside.

The cabin was entirely made from wood, all of it raw and untreated. Some logs hadn't even been cut, left entirely whole and stacked to create the thick cabin walls. Hermione thought that the wood was predominantly birch. There was a stone fireplace with a greyed brick chimney and a solid table and chairs. The cabin had two bedrooms, one adjoining from the lounge area and one in the second story loft. Professor Snape knew what Hermione was about to ask before she opened her mouth, rolling his eyes and motioning for her to climb the stairs. She turned away before beaming with pleasure, maintaining control although she did let her feet bounce a little as she flew up the wooden steps. There was a glass window at one end of the loft, and she could see over the tops of the trees, which went for miles and miles. Far off in the distance, she thought she could make out the dark shapes of buildings, perhaps the makings of a town?

Back downstairs, the raven-haired potions master had already placed his eiderdown and silk pillow on the bed. There was just the one bathroom, however he was thankful for at least this as the wilderness experience on Benedicto left a lot to be desired. Admittedly, Ms Granger had handled that aspect of their journey like a champion. She needn't worry this time, he thought to himself. There was a deep stone bathtub, matching sink and even a mirror. The room even had its own small fireplace. He cringed, cursing himself for not coming to inspect the cabin earlier. It was much too like a honeymoon escape for his liking.

Hermione had slipped out the door whilst Severus was inspecting the bathroom and was out by the front porch making a snow angel. She had changed clothes, now sporting a maroon beanie and matching gloves. Yakutsk was one of the colder places in Russia. Hermione was busily swishing her arms back and forth in the snow when her jacket caught on something sharp. Digging it out of the ground, she uncovered a raw stone of some sort. It was deep purple and covered in small peaks. She carried it inside in the palm of her hand.

"Professor, do you know what this is?"

"Amethyst" He replied after a quick glance. "There are a few minerals which grow around here and become dislodged from their resting places in the weather. It is nice, but inexpensive."

Hermione didn't care for it's worth, she thought it was beautiful and placed it on the table by her bedside. Severus didn't think there was much hope of finding the fish today and the weather had begun to turn, deep purple clouds rolling in from faraway hills. He suggested they do some reading and begin the search tomorrow. Hermione allowed her eyes to pore over some of the Potion masters notes as he continued further research. The pair dined on a supper of Russian trout, skilfully prepared by the Snape household elves. It became dark fairly early on and by eight o'clock, the Professor stood, about to point his wand at the fire.

"No, wait." Hermione stopped him.

The surly man looked at her with one eyebrow raised, indicating he thought her brash.

"Sorry Sir, it's just that I'd like to light it the muggle way."

Severus rolled his eyes, but complied. "By all means Ms Granger, but please do get a move on before we both get hypothermia".

He had a point, Hermione reasoned. The temperature was dropping fast, but she had noticed a wall of firewood stacked against the southern side of the cabin and had many fond memories of muggle fires with her parents. She screwed up some of the Professor's daily prophet at his say so and placed some strips of bark which she had peeled from the logs of firewood. Then, the determined girl hunted high and low through the cabins cupboards before finally happening upon a packet of matches. By this time, half an hour had past and Hermione knew her companion was moments away from reaching for his wand again. She didn't blame him; it really was getting cold. Five minutes later, she had a roaring blaze. The cabin began to warm, Hermione sat upon the woollen sheepskin rug and gazed into the flames.

Severus thought that she looked even more pretty by firelight. She looked good in every light, but this was something special. The amber glow made her freckles stand out and her long eyelashes cast small shadows on her face. Thankfully, she was too entranced by the flames to notice his gawking and he forced his eyes back down to his book. He really didn't know when the girl had become so easy on the eyes. Maybe he just needed a shag. Or to deal to himself, at worst.

Hermione was thankful that she was facing away from her Professor, for once again her weakness showed as tears leaked down her cheeks while she thought of her parents. She loved them so dearly, they would have loved Russia and this quaint little cabin as much as she. While she was thankful for Professor Snape and what he had done for her, nothing could ever replace the hole they had left in her heart.

Little did Hermione know; Severus was not daft. He was very attuned to the body language of others, thanks to years of serving a dangerously tempered maniac. The man could read emotions from a mile away. He assumed that she was upset over her parents, or maybe just the vastness of her loss in general. Again, he felt that pang of pity in his chest. This time though, it was even worse. It was more like sympathy. He didn't think her weak, nor immature. He purely thought of Ms Granger as someone carrying too much weight on their shoulders.

"Perhaps a bath is in order, Ms Granger?"

Of course he knew. He always knows. A bath did sound lovely though, Hermione pondered the idea. "Good idea, thanks Professor." Her voice cracked as she spoke, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. How embarrassing. She made her way to the bathroom and shut the door with a heavy thud. When she left the bathroom, the fire was low and her associate had already turned in for the night. By the bathroom door however, was a vial of dreamless sleep and a note which simply read "Goodnight."

Hermione was beginning to realise that even she had been mistaken about Severus Snape in some ways. Although she had always known him to be on their side during the war, she had still thought him a mean, cantankerous man. He wasn't one for pleasantries, despised small talk and didn't dance around the truth. But, she was starting to comprehend that there was much more to the complex man than meets the eye.

The next day, she made sure to be up by eight o'clock, despite having drunk the vial of dreamless sleep. There were several frozen lakes in the area, but the fish didn't inhabit many of these. They would simply have to search each one until they found them. The purple clouds were above them now and it was hard trekking. By afternoon, a heavy snowfall began to batter them, and the pair turned back with the thought of searching tomorrow. The weather had a different idea, for the vicious snowstorm impaired them all of Wednesday.

On Thursday afternoon, after searching lake after lake, the two finally discovered what they were looking for.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Hello everyone. I've missed you. I realised that I was putting quantity over quality in this story and I know you all would rather read good work. My apologies for the absence, I haven't abandoned the story. I just want to get it right for ya'll. In this chapter, foolish Hermione…

Hermione had been the one to find it and she called out to Professor Snape, who was observing some moss on a rare type of pine tree. She could see the fish swimming, despite the air bubbles in the thick ice layer. She could see a spot ahead which looked much clearer and moved forward, with the intention of peering through to get a better look. Just as Severus stepped through the trees, the ice broke beneath Hermione's feet.

Her body seemed to fall through the ice in slow motion, sinking toward the bottom of the lake. Almost immediately, the ghostly translucent fish began to circle her. The first one widened its jaws and latched on to her ribs. Severus saw her body jerk at the pain. The motion was enough to stir the potions master from his shock and without a second thought, he dove in after her. The splitting cold was comparable to the strongest cruciatus. It paralysed his brain, as if the thoughts were frozen within his head. He felt around blindly, feeling needle like teeth pierce his skin from all angles. His fingertips brushed fabric and, bunching up a fistful of it, he swum desperately in the direction he thought was upwards.

They broke the surface and he began to take deep gulps of air. They stung on the way down his throat. After a few seconds, Severus realised Hermione was not copying his gasping for air. No. No, no, no. He pulled her up and out of the hole in the ice and lay her down, feeling the cold skin of her neck for a pulse. It was faint and irregular, but it was there and that made his heart slow just a little. She was alive, but not for long if he wasn't able to get her warm and breathing properly. Every limb in Severus' body felt like lead, but he bent down and picked up the rapidly bluing girl. With a strength he didn't know he could possess these days, he trekked back through the knee-deep snow to the cabin.

Severus wasted no time in filling the bath with warm, but not hot, water. He didn't want to shock the girl's heart into giving out. He placed her in the tub clothes and all. He pulled his potions bag to him and tipped one, two, three down her throat in quick succession, massaging her neck gently until she swallowed. The colour began to return to Hermione's cheeks and her eyelids fluttered. She was still cold though, so using his wand he gently heated the water a little more. He had suffered a few bites from the fish, and they stung like a particularly vicious bee sting. She had probably been bitten ten times as much as him. He was going to have to deal with that once she was warm.

Reluctant to leave the girl alone for more than a moment, Severus accio'd his brewing equipment and began creating a healing salve on the bathroom floor. Once satisfied with his creation, the man tested it on the deep bite on his left palm. The redness faded and the puncture marks promptly closed. He was confident that Hermione was warm enough now and lifted her from the tub and carried her to the sheepskin rug by the fire. He knew that he could have levitated her but felt that they were well beyond such a point now.

Severus lathered the salve onto all the visible parts of her skin and watched in relief as the bites disappeared. He took a deep breath, dreading this next part. Unable to bring himself to physically remove her clothes, he charmed them off, leaving her in her undergarments. The process was clinical, methodical. He started at her legs, working his way up. Thankfully there weren't any bites on her upper thighs. He skimmed his fingers over her stomach and felt disgusted when he felt a pull in his groin. There was one bite on her left breast, it looked rather deep and was already showing the telltale redness of infection. He quickly applied the last of the salve and turned away when she released a gentle, breathy moan.

Hermione now lay upon a mattress and pillow transfigured from the rug, still in front of the fire. Severus sat in one of the thick wooden armchairs, now seething. The girl was foolish, with no regard for self-preservation. She could have died. Always so inquisitive, acting before thinking. He knew he had developed some kind of… feeling for the girl but hadn't realised the extent of the issue. When he heard the ice shattering below her feet, his heart felt like it was shattering too. Feelings were hard. He hated them. The incident had been a wake-up call. He had been too friendly with Ms Granger and his stupid soul had begun to hope for something which would never happen. When she awoke, he would go and collect the blasted fish and then they could return to Hogwarts. The rest of the ingredients could be sourced alone, quality be damned. Life wasn't a bloody fairytale, especially not for one Severus Snape.

Hermione awoke around three o'clock the next morning, with a splitting headache. She was in her pyjamas and sleeping next to the fire. Confusion gave way as the memories came seeping back in. She had fallen through the ice. The fish had bitten her, it had burned like hell. Panicked, she pulled up her shirt to inspect for wounds. There were none. Glancing around, she saw Professor Snape asleep in an armchair. His book had slipped from his hands and lay abandoned. Another memory entered her mind. Her body jolting and cold wind whipping snow into her face. Someone running through the snow. Tripping, standing and running again. Professor Snape. He had carried her back to the cabin. He had put her in the bath. She remembered strong, soft fingers running over her body and the pain easing away. A hand brushing swiftly over her breast, she blushed at this. He had saved her life, there was no doubting the fact.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I did try to drag out their parting but it was just so boringgg. Still plenty of angst to come though! It's not over yet…

Hermione was in the bathroom inspecting her body for any new scars when Severus awoke. His neck was stiff from sleeping in the armchair and his temper was foul. He wasn't in a fit state to see anyone and while he was angry at her, didn't want to take it all out on Ms Granger. Leaving her a note, he stormed out of the cabin into the howling wind to obtain blood from the stupid fish.

'Ms Granger,

I have gone to collect the blood and will return shortly. Do not leave the cabin. I suggest you make yourself some breakfast and pack your belongings. We return to Hogwarts this afternoon.

Professor SS.'

Hermione stared down at the note, a sinking feeling in her chest. He was angry at her, she could tell. She deserved it really, it was foolish not to wait for him. Damn Gryffindor traits, always charging ahead without stopping to consider the consequences. Usually, she was meticulous in her ability to avoid such happenings. They never ended well for her. She was mature enough to recognise that she had acted on her need to impress the man. He had always been so cold, never offering a word of praise for her constant efforts. Suddenly, the world began to turn inwards once more. For the first time this week, she felt lonely. Cool tendrils of familiar distress pooled in her belly, tears prickling in the corner of her eyes. She had begun to expect Professor Snape's …more pleasant nature and his cool change of attitude left her feeling a little helpless. How foolish to place her happiness in the hands of another, least of all Professor Snape. He was still very much liable to stomp on it and apparently still had the emotional range of a cauldron stirring rod. The real root of the problem was that she didn't seem to be able to give herself happiness anymore, but Hermione's self-preservation instinct staunchly refused to acknowledge this fact.

The girl was packed and ready to go when Severus finally made his way back to the cabin. He hadn't bothered to unpack when they arrived, so it didn't take long before they were standing before the gates of Hogwarts once more. His mind a tangled web of thoughts, the man settled his face into a careful mask and muttered a distant goodbye before heading straight to his rooms. He was far too old for this kind of emotional turmoil. The ice in his glass clinked as he swirled it, sinking deep into the black leather chair behind his desk. Some time around 1am, he stumbled into his bedroom, still coherent enough to remember last night's unpleasant rest in the armchair.

Hermione sat in bed, cuddling Crookshanks. Tears trickled down into his fur, sticking the ginger strands together. The familiar took no notice, his eyes full of irritated concern as he rubbed his face against her wet cheek. It was morning, not that she counted it really. Moments after falling asleep, the horrific nightmares had struck. When she was able to force herself awake, Hermione dared not go back to sleep. Now, with overthinking and so little sleep, her emotions were wearing thin. For the rest of the weekend, she stayed in her dorms and fretted over what would happen between her and Professor Snape. She also worried about how deeply her wellbeing was affected by his actions, which only made things worse. Monday morning she had a panic attack on her way to class and felt a curious combination of dread and relief to see another teacher in the potions classroom. she applied glamour charms in an attempt to disguise it all.

Severus had steeled his face into a look of indifference that was cooler than the one he normally wore. On Monday morning, he had given himself a stern talking to during his morning shower. There would be no more interaction with Ms Granger, for both of their sakes. It just didn't work. She was better off without him and he didn't want to deal with the burdens attached to knowing her. Minerva would just have to find someone else to look after her. Professor Vector had always been fond of the curly haired Gryffindor. Yes, that would do just nicely. As for his potion, well, he would just have to hope his own competence was enough.

Come the following Wednesday, Severus was beginning to regret his hasty decision. He had visited the Isle of Man in search of an ingredient. The trip took seven days, however it was simple. He enjoyed the fresh air, the open space and quiet away from the castle. The entire time, though, something felt… lacking. He knew what the missing component was and hated the fact. He had come to enjoy Ms Granger's insufferable enthusiasm for the small things, like the depth of green in the grass or the salty sea air in the morning. He knew she would have liked it here.

What Severus did not know was that his counterpart was feeling much more than regret.

When Ms Granger had walked into potions during his first lesson back, he fought to keep the shock off his face before his mask slid into place. She was wrapped in one, two, three, four glamours that he could see. To the untrained eye, she would simply look a little worn down and ill. He, however, could see the unbrushed hair, discoloured skin and gaunt face. She couldn't have slept or eaten for at least a week. Staring at her now in the great hall, her head buried below the mass of hair as she attempted to eat, he realised he was an idiot. It hurt to see her this way, just as much as it had when she tumbled under the ice. A different kind of ache, but painful nonetheless. Her peers didn't seem particularly concerned as they chattered away around her. Even Minerva had apparently lost interest, as she hadn't commented on the girl's reverted state. It was unlikely she understood the extent, he mused. As someone who had dealt with (and still dealt with) everything from jaundice to depression, he knew how much those few steps backward meant. Did no one care for the girl? Severus quietly acknowledged to himself that in fact, he did. The problem was, he didn't know how to proceed from here. He hadn't had any contact with her since they parted ways on Friday and didn't have a clue how she was feeling towards him. Probably angry and betrayed, he decided. The Potions Master groaned privately into his pumpkin juice, why did he always mess things up?

It seemed that fate was destined to intervene, as late Thursday night he received an urgent message from Poppy Pomfrey. The details were vague as he skimmed the message, but his presence was required immediately. The sinking feeling in his chest grew with each frantic step towards the hospital wing. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the small, curled figure in the furthest bed. Poppy ushered him into the office and spoke in a low tone.

"The poor dear. She had a seizure, Severus. I got half a patronus message from her and I couldn't decipher more than "scared", "help" and.. your name, actually. There doesn't appear to be anything suspicious about the fit, her body simply gave out. Her stomach is entirely empty, even of bile which suggests she has thrown up recently. I've got a drip set up to get some fluids and the like into her but she keeps fitting. Do you have any suitable potions?"

Being a sensible man, Severus was able to quiet the panicked voice in the back of his head as he looked her over. As if on some twisted cue, another fit took hold. Hermione's hands curled into tight fists and her eyes rolled back in her head. He could tell she was faraway in her mind and likely terrified. He was reluctant to give her dreamless sleep but didn't see another immediate way and poured the potion into her open mouth. It wouldn't make the nightmares, which he was certain were much more serious than she had led anyone to believe, disappear. He needed time to come up with a proper solution. The girl was clearly suffering PTSD, as well as fighting with her depression and anxieties. Whatever the case, Severus knew he couldn't leave her alone again. He would make it work. Professionally, of course. Nothing more, because she couldn't possibly want that and frankly, neither would he. He was destined to die alone; he already knew that. Alone was safe, the only person who can hurt you is yourself. But Severus thought back to the first year know it all, sweet and annoyingly determined. She didn't deserve this, and he couldn't give up on that little spark. He would help her. Even if she scared the hell out of him. Once Severus had reassured himself that there was nothing more he could do for Hermione right now, he set off towards his office with a new sense of determination.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Hello, hello. It's almost Christmassss. Should I do a Christmas one-shot? Little bit of cuteness in this chapter, then maybe we can get back to working on this potion!

Over the next three days, Hermione remained confined within the nightmares of her mind. With each passing hour Severus grew more distressed, though he actively fought it and refused to show this to any of his peers. The only one who had an inkling of his feeling was Poppy, and even she didn't consider the possibility of anything more than their working relationship. When he wasn't reading by her bedside in the evenings or explaining to her dunderheaded friends where the girl was (once they finally realised she was missing), the potions professor was researching anything and everything that had ever been written on mental health in both magical and muggle realms. There wasn't much. There was even less on potions beyond physical ailments. He found it ironic that the incapacitated person currently drooling onto her pillow next to him would be his first pick to ask for help. Despite her ailments, Hermione had proven herself to be even more intelligent than he had given her credit for. She was a planner and thinker, which was part of why he couldn't understand the way she had thrown herself headfirst into danger on their last trip. Ms Granger didn't make these kinds of mistakes.

On Sunday evening, Hermione's eyes opened blearily before rapidly closing again as she winced. The stark smell and feel of the hospital wing assaulted her dormant senses. Her mild slowly began to drag itself awake and a deep, somehow familiar voice somewhere to her left stated

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms Granger."

The voice triggered a sorrowful ache in her chest, though Hermione couldn't understand why. Forcing her eyes open again, everything came rushing back as her eyes landed on the man sitting rigid beside her bed. She had placed her trust and perhaps unknowingly begun to place her heart, in the hands of the wrong person. A spark of anger caused her face to twist indignantly. In the back of her mind, Hermione acknowledged she was about to be foolish. It didn't stop her though.

"What are you doing here?"

The witch made sure to keep her voice monotone, hoping desperately that her emotions didn't betray her.

"You had a seizure and Madam Pomfrey decided my assistance was required. You have been unconscious for three days now."

This new knowledge was enough to take the edge of her anger. She felt all sorts of emotions from anger through to shame. Overlying them all was one she refused to identify.

"Well, I'm awake now. You can stop wasting precious time on me as I'm sure you have plenty to be getting on with". Knowing she was being petulant, but unable to stop herself, Hermione continued without giving him a chance to reply.

"You have put far too much time and effort into a foolish little Gryffindor mudblood such as myself. I don't need your pity, or help"

At that, Professor Snape arose. Hermione would have preferred a cutting remark or vicious quip to the saddened look that briefly filled his eyes. Without a word, he left.

Severus had expected her words, but no amount of mental preparation took away their sting. He deserved it, really. She had opened up to him, trusted him and then he'd turned around and left her. All because of the cowardice hidden behind the leering black persona. A headache formed behind his eyes and it was all he could do not to pour a stiff drink. Instead, he turned his mind to a more practical avenue. It would take a lot of persuasion before she would even consider helping him with the potion any further, he knew.

By the early hours of Monday morning, the Potions Master had written and rewritten several missives. Blearily, he tied it to the leg of his owl and sent it flying off before promptly passing out.

Hermione was lying awake listening to the gentle patter of rain on the hospital wing windows when the owl swooped in under the rafters. It cooed softly, landing on the bedframe. She untied the satiny black ribbon and gave the owl a piece of chicken from her untouched dinner plate. Lowering her eyes, she read.

"_Ms Granger,_

_I am truly apologetic for the way I have been acting these past weeks. Sourcing potions ingredients has been surely dull without your enthusiasm and company. I would deeply appreciate it if you would continue to aid me in the creation of the potion. There is still much to be done. However, I do understand that I have offended you and will accept your refusal without complaint. _

_Regards, SS_."

By the time she had finished reading his scrawl, her eyebrows were up near her hairline. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine a written apology _and _a documented compliment. Still, he had hurt her feelings. Hadn't he? The more she thought on it, the more she realised that it was likely unintentional. He didn't know the extent of her feelings and couldn't possibly have realised how much his brusque manner stung. Knowing Professor Snape, he probably thought he was doing the best thing for both of them. Always the quiet hero. A wave of guilt swept over her with the realisation of her own selfishness. She had been angry at him for her own feelings, which he didn't have a clue of! Feelings that were entirely foolish and inappropriate. The lump in her throat stubbornly refused to leave and Hermione sat in bed and wept. The only thing that allowed her some sleep in the wee hours was the letter and the sliver of hope it held that all was not lost between them.

Ms Granger was absent from class on Monday but was seated when he swept into the class on Tuesday. She was yet to reply to his letter and despite his best efforts to remain uncaring, his temper was foul. No less than three minutes and seventeen seconds into the lesson, Gryffindor lost 30 house points. He set them to work writing an essay on Bezoars and spent the rest of the lesson organising his stores. Severus waited until the heavy door had swung shut after the last student before returning to the classroom where, yet again, he almost wound up smacking straight into the object of his pain. She stood before him, brown eyes wide and chewing characteristically on her bottom lip.

"Sir I-"

"Ms Granger, your silence is telling. I understand entirely. Please leave me".

"Professor-"

"Leave before I take more points from Gryffindor, lord knows they don't need it."

Hermione was beginning to get desperate, and frustrated.

"WILL you just listen to me, please. ?"

Both appeared shocked by her bold outburst.

"So-sorry. I didn't write because I wanted to say it in person. I just need to tell you. I'm the one who should be sorry. It was foolish of me to put myself, and you, in danger the way I did on the ice. I only wanted to.."

"Wanted to what, Ms Granger?"

"Um...Nevermind. But the point is Sir, you didn't do anything to warrant an apology. It was my wrongdoing. If you'll still consider it, I should like to continue helping you with your work. "

"The famous Ms Granger admits herself to be in the wrong. Are you still ill?"

Normally, the scathing remark would have ruffled her feathers but right now she felt relieved, and victorious.

"Very well, I shall inform you when I next require your assistance."

Relief and joy still dancing in her system, Hermione smiled softly. Not thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, for saving my life." Without waiting to see his reaction and wanting to hide her own, she turned and hurried out of the classroom.

Severus lifted a hand to his cheek, watching the girl's retreating back. What in the seven hell's had just happened? Her lips felt like soft rose petals against the rough stubble of his cheek. His heart was beating at least twice as fast as usual. God's. If the risk of drowning in a freezing lake meant he was to be thanked by those lips, he would gladly do so again.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Hey there! I hope you all had a fabulous Christmas! Please let me know if the story is dragging a little. I mean, I loveee a slow burn, but I don't want you all bored. Here's to the new year, happy reading. Thanks for adding fuel to my fiery muse.

P.S. As always, nothing is mine. I merely wish.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of determined study. With their relationship on the mend, Hermione found her appetite for both food and books had returned with a vengeance. Saturday morning saw the young witch gently awoken by the morning sunlight streaming in through the castle window. This was a rare occasion, as most nights she was awake before the sun had a chance to make itself known. Rather than jump up immediately to busy herself as usual, Hermione chose to close her eyes and snuggle into the blankets. An hour later, she was startled out of her daydream by a knock at the door. Inwardly swearing, she hurriedly threw on her summery dressing gown before stumbling to the door.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded cracked, still sleepy.

"I apologise if I have interrupted, Ms Granger. I shall come back at a more suita-"

"No!" Was but shouted to the sturdy oak door. Composing herself, she said more calmly

"I was actually about to make myself a cup of tea and some marmite on toast. Would you care to join me?"

Hermione was elated that he had apparently chosen to resume their little weekend routine, however desperately wished she was up and dressed long ago. Nobody ever saw her looking anything other than proper and the idea of her Professor, and the man she so deeply fancied, being the first seemed absurd. She didn't even bother with a glamour, knowing he would likely see straight through.

Severus felt an overwhelming rush of affection when the little witch opened the door, which was disgusting as much as gratifying. It was quite possibly his first experience with the emotion, and it was alien. The cause of his fuzzies was the fact that Hermione stood before him in a manner he had never seen before. Her hair was utterly unkempt, she wore a baby blue cotton dressing gown and a pair of well-loved fluffy slippers. The man seriously doubted that anyone had ever seen her like this before. Weirdly enough, he felt honoured that she chose to allow him.

"What, pray tell, is marmite?"

Hermione smiled softly at his quip, wandering over to the kitchenette and pulling out a small jar of black substance. She twisted off the red lid and held the offensive looking container up to his nose. He gave her a wary side eye before delicately sniffing its contents. The look of disgust on his face must have been a sight, as Hermione's brown eyes widened and a gentle giggle escaped her lips.

"You really are round the bend. Do you mean to tell me that you start your morning in this way… willingly?"

Now Hermione outright laughed, and the sound was like music to Severus' ears.

"Harry and I tried for weeks to get Ronald to try it. He took one bite and vowed that all muggles and their creations were lunacy. He hasn't trusted any of my suggestions since."

"That may be one of the only sensible decisions Mr Weasley has ever made. I am quite fond of your tea making abilities but will pass on the er…. Marmite. Thank you"

Hermione blushed at the compliment, before mentally berating herself. _He said you were good at making tea, that's hardly a declaration of undying love Hermione. _

"I've got a jar of Mrs Weasley's homemade marmalade here if that is more to your liking."

"That would be suitable, thank you."

Cutting two thick slices of bread, Hermione mused that her Professor's manners had been nothing short of perfect this morning. The thick mugs clinked as she pulled them from the cupboard. Severus had set himself in the same armchair as his last visit and was content to stare out the window until she handed him a plate of toast and tea.

The warm feeling that had blossomed in Severus when she opened the door only amplified when she handed him his breakfast, nervously twisting a stray curl. She had a way of making him feel genuinely cared for. He hadn't ever felt that before. If not for years of emotional abuse, he might allow himself to believe she had no ulterior motive. The normally uptight wizard relaxed as he sunk into the soft armchair. Mrs Weasley, it turned out, was a dab hand at marmalade. The forbidden forest created a beautiful blend of perfumes at this time of year, and Hermione's window was often open for it to waft through. One day he would find a way to bottle the smell, especially since it seemed to blend so beautifully with Hermione's own scent. _Not that it matters one way or another how it smells on her_, he told himself firmly. _Professional, working relationship._

The two ate breakfast in silence, Severus wrinkling his nose as Hermione enthusiastically bit into a piece of tar-covered toast.

"We have collected sufficient ingredients to attempt making the potion. Would you like to assist with the brewing as well?"

"Oh, please Sir! I've been reading up on dreamless sleep lately and other such potions. I couldn't find anywhere near as much on the new aspect you're trying to incorporate though Professor. I even snuck into the restricted section but didn't have any better luck." Hermione trailed off, realising she was rambling.

Normally Severus loathed incessant rambling. However, the little muggle witch in front of him could have rambled on all day and he gladly would have listened. _Severus, old fool, you are screwed._

"As you are aware, I am busy with teacher related duties during the day. My only spare time is in evenings and on weekends."

"Anytime suits me Sir. I have no pressing engagements. Don't tell anyone, but it'll be a bit of a relief to be away from the boys. There's only so many times in a month a girl can use her monthly as an excuse before people clue on. Even people as clueless as those two."

It was Severus' turn to let out a mirthful laugh, short though it was.

"I am glad to be of service. I have patrol every other night, starting on Sunday nights. You may come to the potions lab whenever you see fit to on the alternating evenings. I will be there after dinner. On the weekends, I will be brewing Saturday afternoons."

"That all works brilliantly for me. Starting Monday night, then?"

"Monday night. Make sure to tie up your mane too, Ms Granger. I should be going; I need to meet with Ms Pomfrey. Thank you for breakfast."

"Anytime" Hermione replied, and meant it.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Hello everyone! I'm still here. The story hasn't been abandoned, honest. Does life always get in the way this much? Make a cuppa, find a snuggly spot and spend some time in HP land. My heartfelt thank you, as always.

Classes dragged horribly on Monday, despite Hermione's best efforts to remain actively engaged. Even solving a particularly problematic equation in Arithmancy failed to take her mind off the evening ahead. She worried about her ability to brew. She was thrilled at the idea of both being near him and the opportunity to watch a skilled potions master at work.

"Are you okay, Hermione? You have barely touched your food and you look bloody horrid."

"Gee thanks, Gin. I'm fine."

"You've been acting strange all year, don't think I haven't noticed. I've been courteous enough to leave you alone up until now, but my curiosity really can't take much more. Besides, as your best friend, it's my duty to harass you about these things. So, come on then"

Noticing those around her tuning into the conversation and desperate to change subjects, Hermione conceded.

"Gods. Later, Ginny? Please."

With a smile that only Ginevra Weasley could pull off, her red headed menace of a best friend turned away and began chattering to Neville about upcoming quidditch.

Hermione waited until 7.30pm to head towards the potion's classroom. She deemed this an acceptable length of time after dinner. Still early, but late enough so as not to appear over eager. She had applied makeup, removed makeup, reapplied makeup and changed hairstyle enough in the past hour that eventually she stood in front of the mirror and gave herself a stern talking to. _Hermione Jean Granger. You are about to go and brew potions, you stupid git. Are your sleeves covering your arms to prevent splashes? Yes. Is your hair tied back from your face? Do you have close toed shoes in the event of your clumsiness? Yes. Then you are ready to attend a brewing session with your Professor. _This internal monologue didn't stop her slicking on a final brush of clear lipgloss before hurrying from the room.

Severus had eaten swiftly, knowing his stomach would only hold out so long. To him, brewing alongside someone was almost as personal and intimate as sleeping with them. He could count the number of times he had brewed with another on one hand, despite being highly skilled. Of course, Ms Granger would have no idea this and so he would try his best to maintain a casual appearance. Before leaving his quarters, he had dabbed a little cologne on, then laughed to himself about it cynically. With one last sip of liquid courage, the man vanished his glass and waited.

The Professor was waiting at his desk when Hermione entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of bottles and jars lined up on the front table. She recognised the purple glow of the lunar moss and flushed at the memory of collecting it. How many times had he seen her weak and crying? More still, how many times had he been the cause of her tears? At least he wasn't privy to all of those. Turning her attention back to the table, she realised the vast number of jars contained things she hadn't seen. He must have collected them during their disagreement. As if reading her mind, Professor Snape spoke.

"Some are freshly collected, but others have been in my possession for many years. This idea is a long time in the makings."

Hermione nodded absently, letting his silky voice soothe her as she roamed along peering into each container. Finally stopping before one, she wrinkled her nose and asked

"What in all the seven hell's is this?"

Severus, still unused to her occasional foul mouth, quickly replaced his grin with a raised brow.

"It is a fermented version of the bacteria we collected; I want to see whether it will produce a stronger temperature resistance than preserved samples. The brewing process will be longer and more complex than dreamless sleep, as the goal is to keep the drinker conscious. This will not be an easy feat seeing as the principle idea of the dreamless sleep potion is that the drinker falls asleep. So begins a period of trial and error, Ms Granger. "

Spurred on by his own enthusiasm, feeling doubly elated and hopeful, Hermione began the tedious process of cutting the first ingredients as Severus continued scribbling away in his old, cracked notebook. The pair mostly worked in silence, beside the odd question from student to teacher. She would ask, he would answer and often, she would scribble down a quick note in her little book, leather bound and fresh. On the last trip to Hogsmeade, Hermione had purchased some new supplies in preparation for their brewing sessions together which included the notebook and a shimmering navy quill.

The atmosphere in the classroom was strangely cosy, the distant sound of rain hitting the castle walls and the soft light of the wall sconces giving a gentle warmth. It was different in the light of day, with students chattering and Seamus blowing up his cauldron. There was always an air of tension to the room and in its absence, Hermione felt at home. A gentle lump began to creep into her throat, as the witch realised it had been a long time since she felt truly as if she belonged anywhere.

After the loss of her parents Hermione had left her parent's house and the muggle world, both bearing scars of the war. While Hogwarts was welcoming, she had never quite felt worthy of the magic arising from the sturdy stone brick and the people within. She knew the divide between muggleborn and purebloods was slowly dissolving, but old ways linger and the word carved into her flesh served as a reminder.

As evening crept steadily into night, the two worked diligently. Ingredients had been prepped and placed carefully into jars, notes had been rewritten orderly and a plan set in place. When midnight came around, Severus reluctantly called an end to the toiling. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so relaxed, sharing his work with a likeminded witch. Their energies seemed to mingle and flow smoothly, which surprised him. He didn't think he had brewed alongside someone for this long without so much as a hint of irritation. After much insistence on his part that she not wander the corridors alone so late, they stood before her heavy oak door.

"Thank you for your help, Ms Granger. I have had a very… enjoyable evening"

Unable to hide her flush, Hermione looked at her shoes and cringed inwardly

"Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this Sir. I loved it. It feels like home. I mean, you know. It's nice to be doing something I'm good at and all"

With a final embarrassed smile, she slipped through her door to face the usual demons.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Hello! Bear with me while I fall back in love with Sevmione, and my story. No beta, mistakes are my own. Thank you and happy reading.

That one sentence replayed itself in his mind that night. It feels like home. Home was a funny, faraway concept for Severus. His childhood home had been anything but loving, complete with abusive father and mentally ill mother. Not often did his thoughts turn to them, it was discomfiting that they did so now. He was feeling emotional tonight, worn. The only place he had ever possibly felt at home was with Lily, even that was brief and ultimately false.

Suddenly, he longed to know what home felt like. Things were getting dangerous again, his feelings constantly trying to overrule logic. The wizard forced his mind down other avenues. They hadn't made much progress on the potion today, but things were looking promising. Refilling the empty glass on the desk, Severus leaned back into his chair.

Hermione had waited until the strong, even footfalls disappeared entirely before slumping against the door. He had to think her a fool. She hadn't meant to say any of it. The words poured unbidden from her mouth before she could stop them. Her professor had swiftly blanked the confused expression from his face, but Hermione had seen it, nonetheless. She sat in her room; loneliness overwhelmed by her embarrassment. It would be entirely unsurprising to receive an owl from the man with some excuse for removing her from the task. Although, he had said he enjoyed the evening. A warm glow accompanied that thought, for a few months ago she wouldn't have imagined the way she felt for him let alone he enjoying her company. Feeling decidedly quieted, the girl bathed and slept.

Tuesday passed easily for Hermione, for she had returned to the Room of Requirement in search of the Half-Blood Prince's book and been successful. The tattered potions book felt like gold in her hands, though she didn't dare take it anywhere other than her dorm. As she gazed over the spiky handwriting, an idea began to form. She knew the Professor's birthday was coming up, Dumbledore had always insisted on turning the great hall into a mess of candles and balloons- something which even the Potions Master could not escape. She wanted to do something nice for him, to show her…appreciation for him. That was it. Admiration, respect. He had given her an incredible opportunity after all, not to mention gifted her with dreamless sleep potions. The plan was risky, he would either like it or not. If he didn't, things could get ugly.

Tuesday night found Severus wandering the corridors, only half focusing on patrolling them. A young Gryffindor couple were lucky enough to blend into the shadows as the distracted Professor stalked past. His feet had carried him to Hermione's little corner of the castle, entirely unintentionally. The faint golden glow told him she was still awake. The idea that she was still up was comforting, it eased the cold of the lonely night. He wondered what she was doing. Perhaps, curled up in the sunken armchair or hunched over her desk, writing notes in studious cursive. His mind wandered somewhere primal, imagining her in bed. He had never seen her bedroom, which allowed his mind to create a four-poster bed covered in luxurious black silk. Or maybe maroon. She seemed to like red. He wondered what she slept in. A lacy nightgown seemed farfetched, but the image caused a deep ache. More likely, an ugly oversized t-shirt. The ache grew worse. After struggling through the last hour of his patrol, Severus Snape gave in. It had been a long time since he had relieved himself, turmoil successfully quelling any urges over the past years. He allowed himself to turn the shower to hot, forced himself to go slow. Bathed in the feeling, so long forgotten. Drawing a final deep breath, the wizard closed his eyes and pictured Hermione.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she was back in the potion's classroom. Ginny had tried to bring up the subject of her strange behaviour again, but she had begged off, promising an explanation later. She was simply going to have to figure out something to say. The potions room was warm, the sconces lit once more. The professor sat at his desk, looking over his notes. He didn't say anything at first and when he finally looked up at her, she could have sworn she saw something new in his dark eyes. They spent the next three hours trying to incorporate the purple dye from the moss to the fermented bacteria. Hermione's hair frizzed up like a curly halo, Severus' stuck to the edge of his cheeks. After a final attempt ended in a second of Hermione's shirts being accidentally tye-dyed, the Potions professor held up a hand.

"That is it. I'm not sure about you Ms Granger, but I for one have had quite enough and am going to stop before my remaining brain cells excavate themselves through my ears."

Hermione grinned, "Agreed, Professor. I can't afford to lose anymore shirts."

Frowning for a moment, he pointed his wand at her shirt and murmured a spell. The purple swiftly removed itself from her person and tucked itself neatly back into the glass vial. Hermione looked up at him in surprise.

"Wow! What spell is that sir?"

"My adaptation of one of Dumbledore's spells. It comes in handy for spills."

"You are very clever, Professor". Hermione said the words softly, as if they might offend him.

"That is a matter of perspective but thank you. Tea?"

"Yes, please. If you don't mind."

He started off to leave the room when the witch behind him piped up,

"Where are we going?"

"My rooms, Ms Granger. Unless you are set on taking tea in the potions classroom."

At the thought of seeing his rooms, Hermione's heart began to race. She doubted many, if any, students had been in them despite his long-standing status as head of Slytherin house. Once they had descended what felt like hundreds of steps, he stopped before an ebony door. As he opened the door, she was hit by his earthy smell. This time, it was combined with the smell of old leather books and firewhisky. It was heady, stirring strong feelings in the pit of her stomach. Entering the room, the young witch keenly observed her surroundings.

Each piece of furniture was made from dark ebony wood, much like the door. His bookcase put hers to shame, it was all and more than she could have imagined. There was everything from shiny new copies to original manuscripts. Hermione's eyes were wider than saucers, her jaw dropped in awe. Behind her, Severus quietly bathed in her reaction. She reached out a hand towards a thick, gold leafed book before remembering where she was.

"Go on. That one won't bite."

"That one?"

"The top shelf is where I keep my more exotic volumes."

"I'm afraid to touch anything, some of these are so old."

"I trust your ability to handle a book Ms Granger, I know you are experienced in the act of doing so."

Hermione flashed him a grin before turning to take in the room once more, there wasn't much to it. The large bookcase, desk, and chair took up much of the room, as well as two dark green armchairs strategically placed before the unlit fire. They looked untouched. Aside from the bookcase, the room was impersonal. There were no loving touches, or little pieces of home. Only one other door existed in the room, closed. It probably led to his bedroom, she decided. Hermione knew teachers were required in the great hall at meals so didn't have need to cook for themselves. Choosing an armchair, she sat down.

Severus glanced over at the witch sitting in the armchair. He had never felt ashamed in front of his colleagues when they forced themselves upon him for a visit, but after being surrounded by the homeliness of Hermione's rooms, his own felt strangely inadequate.

"May I use my wand to light the fire? I'm afraid I've no matches here."

Hermione blushed, thinking back on their time in the cabin.

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long that night. It must have been annoying."

"Not particularly, although my toes did need a while to recover from the hypothermia"

The witch looked up at him, unable to tell if he was serious. He flashed her a quick grin. Her heart sped up once more. When he smiled, the deep lines in his face dispersed. His teeth were surprisingly white, for some reason she had expected otherwise. He looked handsome. But then, she supposed, to her he always did.

Once the tea had been poured and fire lit, Severus gestured to the bookcase

"Well, pick one, then"

"May I really?"

"Yes, you really may"

Unable to contain herself, the girl leapt from the chair and retrieved the same gold leafed book she had eyed earlier. It was a tome on the history of magic in Egypt, covering everything from gods to cat familiars. For the next two hours, the pair read in comfortable silence, unknowingly filling each other's hearts.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Hello! I'm not sure about you all, but I could sure use a break from reality about now. This chapter was written by candlelight on a particularly frosty, starry night. My thanks, always. Enjoy.

The next few weeks slipped away from the pair as they fell into a comfortable routine. Every other night Hermione would patiently sit through the feast in the great hall, listening to her friend's inane chatter before scurrying away toward the potion's classroom. No one had asked her where she went each time, either uncaring or assuming she sought refuge in the library. Once she was comfortably tucked away in the warm atmosphere of the classroom, the potions master-who was always waiting for her at his desk- and the muggle born witch would pour their knowledge and skill into creating the potion. Hermione had dubbed it "Dreamless Wake" for the time being. Severus, not normally one for corny names, didn't object. Before she scurried away the second night of their brewing, she had told Ginny just the barest amount. That she felt as though she might be developing feelings for someone. She need not know just how surreal the situation really was. Ginny had persisted on the "who" side of things for an hour before giving in and heading to bed, realising Hermione simply wouldn't tell.

This particular weekend, Hermione put the second stage of her plan for Severus' birthday gift into action. She excused herself from Saturday morning's brewing in favour of going to Hogsmeade with Luna and Ginny. After agreeing to meet up in an hour's time for a butterbeer, the three went their separate ways. Hermione made a beeline for Flourish and Blott's. She purchased a thick blank journal, with a silky outer and pages covered in golden fleck. It could be spell encoded so that only certain voices would be allowed entry. It was expensive, but she didn't want to use just any journal for this. She also bought a simple silver inked quill, instant drying to avoid smudges. Feeling decidedly giddy from nerves and excitement about her plan, she drank not one or two drinks but four before stumbling back to Hogwarts with the others. By the time they returned, the great hall was full of hungry students. _You've done it now, idiot. Someone is bound to see you._ She had to avoid dinner, instead sneaking up towards Gryffindor tower. Hermione was a responsible witch. She didn't get drunk, because it made her silly. That, she reflected after the fact, was entirely why she impulsively turned away from her heavy oak door and stumbled down to the potion's classroom.

Severus was feeling irritable. He told himself the source of his mood was the lack of progress on the potion. He thoroughly refused to acknowledge that his feelings had anything to do with Hermione's absence, or her choosing Hogsmeade over their brewing session. Or the fact that dinner had come and gone without her appearance in the great hall and he was growing concerned. He was still quite wrapped up in his feelings at 7pm, when an un-coordinated knock came from his classroom door.

"What?" His voice came as a snap, unintentionally.

"Profe- Sir. It's me."

"I am finished brewing for the day, Ms Granger. You have missed your opportunity to partake."

Hermione, confused by his harsh attitude and her mind muddled by alcohol, replied

"Well that's-. That's alright, Sir. I don't think I'd be very useful right now. I'm drunk."

At that, heavy footsteps followed, and the door swung open. Her potions master loomed before her, a skill he had mastered even without his teaching robes present. Somewhere in the back of her mind, logical Hermione noted that she felt nervous, but not afraid as she might once have been.

Severus stared down in incredulity at the young woman before him. His anger had eased greatly the moment he laid eyes on her and saw that she was safe. She was smiling softly, her cheeks red and eyes glazed over from the alcohol. Her pupils were wide as she looked up at him. She smelled sweet. Butterbeer and apple was an intoxicating aroma, he discovered. Maybe, just on her.

"I ought to do my duty and remove house points, Ms Granger."

At that, the witch's mouth downturned.

"I understand. I put myself in this position. I'm not one to drink and certainly not one to inform the teachers of my transgressions." The words were slightly slurred, blending together.

"On that note. Why did you come here? I would have thought your rooms for a cup of tea and sleep would be the appropriate course of action."

"I did go there. But then I came here. It was rather spontaneous."

The wizard before her, still confused, frowned.

"Yes, but why? Why did you come here?"

"Well. I…You see. It's just that… Just because I wanted to see you" She flushed, adding "Sir" as an afterthought.

A foreign lump grew in Severus' throat. He must have misheard her. His head couldn't believe what his eyes and ears were telling him. His body understood, the arousal instantaneous, but his mind refused to comprehend. She was looking down, her long lashes shielding her expression from him.

"I'm afraid I still don't quite understand, Ms Granger."

"Hermione."

"Excuse me?"

"My name, its Hermione."

"I am aware of what your name is, silly witch. I can't refer to you on such casual terms. I am still your teacher, despite our recent… acquaintance over the past months." His self control began to slip, formality giving way to emotion in his tone. He prayed she was too drunk to notice.

"I don't see you as an acquaintance. You're my friend. Even that isn't enough to describe it. You're my…"

Possible words hung in the air between them. Idol. Partner. Crush. Everything.

She trailed off; mouth snapping shut with a small gulp. Hermione was sure her big mouth had betrayed her feelings this time, nerves at the thought flushing the alcohol from her system. Anyone else would have seen her rosy cheeks and the lust in her eyes for what it was. Severus could not, so deeply ingrained was the belief that he was unworthy, unpalatable, disgusting.

He didn't know quite what to do. It was like his teenage years all over again, but somehow worse. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the impulse to reach for her almost unbearable. Had he been a man lesser versed in the art of restraint, she would have already been pressed up against the nearest desk. Had he been able to see how she really felt in that moment he might have chosen to give up that restraint, everything else be damned. He was already going to hell, anyway.

The reminder of his sins was enough for him to wrench himself back from her. His desire gave way to self-hatred. _Idiot_. For a moment, he had forgotten who he was. Murderer, unworthy of the attention of anyone, let alone one as sweet as the muggle born witch before him. He had killed the likes of her. When Severus forced himself to meet her eyes, he could see the hurt lying within them.

Hermione felt a deep pang in her chest, misreading his reaction. What else had she expected? Him to lean down, kiss her and profess his undying love? She had been totally blinded by her own feelings, forgetting what she was to him. A muggle born witch, who had spent years irritating him with inane questions and now served to further irritate him by being a general headcase. Chances were, he was only doing this because she was a student in need, and he was secretly kindhearted. He probably didn't even particularly enjoy his time with her, saying so only out of pity. He had seemed genuine though, any time he complimented her. Sobriety and alcohol now warred for space in her mind, only adding to her disorientation. She said nothing when he moved away.

Severus packed up the rest of the classroom in silence, as Hermione stood in the doorway. Finally, he turned to her

"It would be impertinent to let you wander back to your rooms in your current state. I shall accompany you, or you may join me in my room for a drink. Tea, preferably." He silently prayed that she would come along, whether out of pity or otherwise he could not deny himself her company.

"Tea would be nice, thank you."

Approximately twenty minutes later, Severus found himself in a new dilemma. Hermione had fallen asleep in her usual armchair, book falling from her fingertips and tea long gone cold. He allowed himself to take in her features, as he decided what to do. The small stress lines normally occupying her forehead were banished in her sleep, reminiscent of her character before years of war and grief. His eyes trailed down her slender nose to her lips, which were a very light pink and still shiny from the gloss she wore. They were the colour of his mother's favourite roses, which he assumed still grew at Spinners End. He himself lacked time and enthusiasm for nature. His onyx eyes fell back upon the sleeping form. He didn't want to wake her, were he able to avoid it. Ideas flowed, each one quickly dismissed. He could hardly levitate her back to her rooms without questions.

Another twenty minutes had passed before Severus decided he would transfigure his own chair into a bed. He picked the closest jersey, creating a passable blanket. Transfiguration was not a strong suit. He tormented over levitating the sleeping witch before giving in to temptation. He slipped his arms under her, gently lifting her unconscious form. She stirred but didn't wake, tucking her face against his chest. Holding her in his arms felt different without the panic of thinking she was dead. She was warm, soft, and alive. He pulled her a little closer for a moment before swallowing harshly. He couldn't be certain what it was, but a new feeling began to bloom.

Hermione awoke to the smell of pine needles, brandy and woodsmoke. She inhaled deeply, before her brain registered that she shouldn't be able to smell him. She sat up in a hurry, eyes widening as she took in the room. It was dark, but definitely not her room. For one, her bed wasn't right before a smouldering fireplace. She could feel a dull ache in the back of her skull. She had been drinking, she remembered. The pieces fell into place like a horrible jigsaw puzzle. She had come down here, drunk, rambling about wanting to see him. Groaning softly, the witch looked around for a clock. In the dim light, she could make out that it was 2.23am. She let her head fall back against the bed with a thud. A small smile graced her face. He had made her a bed. After a cautious glance around to make sure he really wasn't in the room, she buried her face in the blanket laying over her. It was loosely stitched, the fabric scratchy. It clicked. He had transfigured a blanket from a jersey. _His _jersey. That was why it smelled so strongly of him. A dizzying wave of affection hit her at the gesture, so strong that she had to suck in a few deep breaths just to calm down.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Hello, I hope you are doing well. As best as you can be. Go easy on yourself, and others. My thanks, and my love.

Severus was entirely unsurprised to find the bed empty when he awoke. He forced himself to ignore the clench in his gut and went about his morning rituals. He thought about leaving the bed there, some sort of sappy reminder. She had tidied it up, straightening the blanket and pillows. _Old fool Severus, get rid of the damn thing. She was drunk, it's all a dream and you know it. _He reached for the blanket with the intention of transfiguring it back into something wearable. A small white note fluttered to his feet as he lifted it.

_Professor,_

_Please know that I am incredibly embarrassed by my actions last night. I crossed a line, putting you in a no doubt uncomfortable position as a teacher. I can barely stand to face you, knowing what I've said. I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you further by falling asleep in your rooms. Thank you for your hospitality however, it was the best sleep I have had in a long time. I hope we can still work together if you do not feel it inappropriate. _

_Kindest regards, Hermione Jean Granger. _

The potions master frowned, her note seemed a slight over reaction. He couldn't actually recall her saying anything much at all. Calling him a friend was hardly grounds for an apology. Women. He would never understand them. Rather than penning back a note, he waited until the class had begun to depart and called out to her.

"Ms Granger"

She turned, cheeks aflame, looking uncharacteristically awkward. "Yes, Professor Snape?"

"I don't much care for brewing tonight, would you care to join me in the restricted section of the library for some research?"

"You still want.. to work with me?"

"Of course. You are not the first drunk student I have seen, and certainly not the worst."

"So you don't feel uncomfortable about what I said?" Her heart beat an uneasy rhythm, wondering where the conversation would go.

"I too consider you to be a friend, Ms Granger. In fact, the only true one I am in possession of. I am not offended by your admission, more so honoured by it. I will meet you at the library at our usual time." He turned away before she could see the pink colouring his cheeks.

Hermione felt elated. She also felt slightly confused, and a little disappointed. She realised now that he hadn't understood her meaning that night, so incredulous was the idea. Of course he wouldn't consider a student having feelings for him. It was entirely unprofessional.

The very same small spark that drove her to study, to work hard, glowed again. The very thing that made Hermione who she was, began to burn with determined longing. She would make him see. She would make him understand how she felt. If he chose to turn away in disgust and remove himself from her existence, so be it. The tiny sliver of hope for a different reaction told her it was worth the risk. Their night of research was soothing for the pair, both parties decidedly needed relief from the stress. It wasn't strange, as Hermione had feared. They picked a comfortable corner in quiet and each sat, occasionally asking a question or taking down notes. They read long into the night, before retiring with a whispered goodbye.

The next day, Hermione made for her rooms swiftly once classes were over. Taking a deep breath, she sat down at the small, overused desk in her lounge area. It was large enough to spread ample books, but small enough to keep tidy. From her position she could see over the lake and into the woods. A soft afternoon breeze wafted fresh air through the large glass window. The Half Blood Prince's book sat open to the first page before her. Taking the silk journal and her new quill, Hermione wrote

"_This Book is Property of the Half Blood Prince"_

_-The knowledge within is the intellectual property of one Severus Snape, transcribed by an admiring, silly, witch. _

She was grateful for the calligraphy classes she had taken in her eagerness to gain her pen license at her muggle secondary school, allowing her to link each letter beautifully. Witches and wizards didn't bother much with handwriting, long as it were legible. She wanted this to be special.

Hermione had never been much one for art, but her mother loved it. Abstract was good, she decided. She illustrated the first page with an image of her professor, hair falling in a graceful curtain over his face as he leaned into a cauldron. Below this, in small golden lettering, she rewrote the first words she had ever heard him say. She remembered the entire speech from start to finish. First page complete, she allowed herself a private grin. His birthday was this coming Friday, she would need to work hard to finish the journal. The next few days were spent lovingly re-writing her teacher's spiky scrawl. She incorporated his notes from margins, replacing the useless steps within the potion with his own genius. Each page had some form of illustration, whether it be a simple jar of ingredients or a scene. Once she reached the middle of the book, she used an entire two pages to illustrate. This drawing, she coloured. The tree from which they had sourced roots for the potion stood in the middle, it's red berries glowing in the moonlight. The forbidden forest stood behind it, casting dark shimmering shadows. She had drawn the two of them, him looking up to the tree and her looking up at him. Drawing-Snape was entirely un-aware of the girl beside him as he took in the beauty of the surroundings. Drawing-Hermione's eyes were glued on him alone, large and loving, lips curved up in a soft smile. Real Hermione took in her work, nerves stirring in the pit of her stomach. There was no way he would miss the intention behind the picture. How would he feel?

On Thursday she worked long into the night. The clock struck twelve, startling her. She paused, placing her wand at her throat to speak as she cast her patronus, the otter twittering softly at her. She wished him a happy birthday, sending it gliding out the window. Once every word of his potions book had been transcribed and illustrations complete, she sat back, tired and pleased.

Severus had poured himself a drink and cynically cheered himself for still being alive. He found it more pleasurable to drink when he wasn't doing so because he felt there were no other choice. He felt genuine appreciation of the fact that he hadn't the urge to drown himself in liquor very often anymore. A silver light squeezing under his doorway surprised him, disturbing the man's late night musings. He was confused to see the otter, swirling around his bookcase. Hermione's voice radiated the room in a whisper. Of course her patronus was an otter. A warm feeling crept through him, akin to whisky as it flows down one's throat. He reached for the otter, it swum around him once before disappearing. She knew when his birthday was. She had taken note. Of course, she was meticulous Ms Granger. She would know all her teacher's birthdays. But it was barely 12.01, and she had already wished him happy birthday.

His happiness was diminished the moment he entered the great hall. Every year he dreaded entering, it never got easy. After an awkward and generally unmeaningful "Happy Birthday" sung by the students and eating cake for breakfast, he prayed it would be over. Alas, when did Severus Snape ever have good luck? The staff insisted he join them at the Three Broomstick's for drinks after classes. He didn't like doing this at the best of times but was especially miffed to be missing out on an evening with Hermione. That would have been a much better way to celebrate.

Hermione had expected him to be out, but still felt a little blue. It couldn't take the edge off her excitement though. She crept down to his rooms, placing the gift before the door. No one came down here but him, so it was entirely safe to leave it there. When she had made it upstairs, she poured herself a bath and tried her best to relax.

Severus managed to escape his now well imbibed colleagues around 9 o'clock, enjoying a quiet stroll back to the castle. It was snowing, the trees coated thickly. He spied the box before he had made the final steps down to his room, and drew his wand. No one gave him presents aside from Albus, and that was tucked under his arm. Firewhisky, no doubt. Surely, this was a foul prank by disgruntled students. Possibly even death eaters, still stung and vengeful. He ran a few diagnostic spells, but turned up nothing. As he crept cautiously closer, the smell of vanilla and apples met his nostrils. _Ms Granger. Hermione Granger._ She had gotten him a _gift? _The lump crept it's way up his throat yet again, as seemed to be a common occurrence since their relations.

Placing the gift before him on the desk, Severus simply sat and stared at it for a while. The box was black, she had tied a perfectly even bow around it. There was a card attached, plain brown paper.

"_Dear Professor, _

_Happy Birthday. It is no small feat that you remain here amongst us to celebrate. You haven't any idea how grateful I am for that fact. Many of us, myself included, also owe it to you that we can enjoy our own birthdays. Thank you for all that you have shown me, even when it was not your responsibility to do so. This is just a small show of appreciation, one day I will figure out how to make a larger one. _

_Looking forward to our next brewing session, Hermione. "_

He re-read the note._ You haven't any idea how grateful I am for that fact. _He didn't think anyone would ever be grateful that he was still alive. Hands beginning to tremble, he lifted the lid of the box. A book of some sort, covered in black silk. Already, it was better than he had allowed himself to imagine. Books were a very personal thing, after all. He opened it carefully, with more respect than he handled even his oldest tomes. His hands trembled harder. His eyes widened as they took in what lay before him. She had titled it after his self-given nickname. He was dumbstruck to find that she had re-written every word of his opening speech perfectly. _How on earth had she remembered that?_ He began to flick through the pages, growing closer to tears with each turn. The lump in his throat felt as though it were obstructing his airway, now. When he came to the middle of the book, he stilled. He placed it open before him and gazed down at it. The scene was breath-taking. The tree fairly glowed, she had made him look much more handsome than he thought was truthful. But what made his heart stop in his chest and the tears finally escape his eyes was the drawing of herself. She was looking at him, smiling. He saw in her eyes the same thing he had seen that night she came stumbling down to his rooms and finally, Severus Snape understood.

It took him approximately forty three seconds of warring with his responsibilities to give in. Hope burned hard in his chest, accompanied by the signature ache of longing. The fear of rejection lent a metallic taste to his mouth, but he pressed on. He had barely time to wipe the tears from his eyes before he had rounded the corner to her rooms. He stopped before it, hand raised as if to knock. This was it. If he turned away now, he would never come back. Before he could put his hand to the wood, the door swung open.

Hermione's heart crept into her throat as she saw him before her. Leftover tears in his eyes made them glitter, black as ever. She said nothing, unsure. He stepped forward into the room, she closed the door.

Severus had never had to say such things before, therefore didn't know how. Luckily, all it took was

"Hermione" before she threw caution to the wind and launched herself at him. Before either of them could have a moment to think, she leaned up and placed her lips upon his. Severus had never had a proper kiss, not the kind that told the stories of one's feelings. He felt her pouring herself into him, as though he were an empty glass. He slipped a hand under her head, running it through the mass of curls as instinct took over. Gods, how long he had wanted to do that. _She's kissing you. SHE kissed YOU._ She pressed him further back until he was hard up against the door and she hard up against him.

He couldn't help the low groan that escaped his throat as he felt the heat of her body against his. The dynamic of the kiss changed, beginning to grow frantic. She must have just bathed, for her skin smelled deeply of apple and her curls were damp. He lowered his lips to her neck, desperate to taste the smell he had been taunted by for so long. It was her turn to groan as his tongue flicked over the skin below her ear, the sound made him shiver. He felt like a man drowning, and she was air. Returning to her mouth, he indulged in the feel of her soft lips and the way she kissed back. They stayed like this for much too long, simply enjoying the feel of each other's kisses. Severus ignored the thoughts in the back of his mind, focusing his attention wholly on the young woman before him.

His body was growing uncomfortably wound up, the desire building until almost painful. He forced himself to pull away.

"Hermione."

"Prof-"

"Severus. Please"

"Severus" She tested his name, feeling the way it fell from her lips.

At the sound, he growled and pulled her up against him again.

"You're going to ruin me, silly witch."

Once they were both sufficiently out of breath, Severus pulled back and sunk himself into the usual armchair. He was fairly taken aback by what had just happened, entirely unsure how to proceed as logic returned.

"Tea?" Hermione knew not to push, had learned the way he thought. She would remain calm. _If you start to grin manically he'll feel uncomfortable, pull yourself together._

"Please"

She poured the tea and seated herself between his legs, back against the armchair. She rested her head on his thigh, staring contentedly into the fire. Severus looked down at the cup in his hand and tangle of golden hair against his leg. He felt perfectly, entirely, at peace.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Hello, hello. I hope you are doing as well as can be expected and are treating yourselves and those around you with love. Severus and Hermione most certainly are. Happy reading, Ms K.

That night had been the best of Severus' existence. He had spent another hour in her room, sipping his tea and feeling the warmth of the fire. When it had become too hot, Hermione forced herself up and over to the window. She opened it, allowing the intoxicating smell of the forest, mingled with the cool night air, to flow through. Severus had never felt so relaxed that he might dose off before, which was mildly disconcerting. After stealing a few more precious moments, he arose.

"I ought to return to my dungeon now, fair maiden"

Hermione laughed at his lame joke, her eyes glittering in the firelight before she grew serious.

"Severus, what happens now?"

"Now, I will go and attempt to sleep off the giddying joy I am experiencing compliments of you"

"That's sweet and mildly strange to hear from you, but you know that isn't what I meant."

He sighed, conceding. "Now, we must continue to act as though nought has changed. You will continue to act as the dutiful head girl and I as the greasy old dungeon bat."

"I can't stand it when you put yourself down like that."

Severus cringed at her frown. "Sorry, force of habit."

She waved him off with a huff. "So you do.. you know?"

"I do not know."

"You do feel the same for me as I do for you?" She said in a rush of breath, cringing at her own awkwardness.

"If my lips did not tell the story well enough last time, I will gladly perform another demonstration. For now, however, I must bid you goodnight Ms G-Hermione."

"Goodnight, then"

She smiled softly, those fawny eyes trained on his lips as he turned away.

The days that followed were a previously unencountered challenge for each of them. Hermione struggled not to think of her surly Professor, the following weekend spent at Hogsmeade did nothing to prevent her daydreams. Ginny clued onto the change in her best friends' demeanour instantly, though she would never consider the potions master as a contender for Hermione's affection.

"Something's happened with the mystery man. You've kissed him, haven't you? Or- no! You didn't-did you SLEEP with him?!"

"Gods Ginevra! No, I didn't sleep with him."

"Well, what happened then? Don't be a prude."

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking a sip of butterbeer. The three broomsticks was cheery, the laughter of its many patrons blending together.

"We kissed, that's all."

Ginny grinned triumphantly.

"Stop that, you look like the Cheshire cat."

"The who?"

"Nothing, muggle things."

Luna, who had been listening in quietly, now piped up.

"Well Hermione, whoever he is, he's sure lucky to be loved by a kind woman like you"

"We haven't even really, its so new. I do not-! Luna!"

"It's okay, you'll realise in your own time. But I can tell by the lack of wrackspurts hanging around you lately. Happiness dispels them, and love is the deepest happiness of all."

The weekend dragged on, with Hermione only seeing glimpses of him at meals. She forced herself to read books at the dinner table, for they were the only thing that could distract her eyes from him. Each night the longing grew worse, she would imagine his hands in her hair and his lips trailing down her body. She wondered how his fingers would feel on her skin, calloused as they were. Being the so called "prude" that she was, she resisted temptations and attempted to turn her mind to other things. How would he react when he found she was a virgin? Would he care? Would he _leave?_ Could she hide it? Not a chance. If they did make it so far, she would be a nervous quivering wreck before their clothes were off. The only person to come close was Ronald, and even then, it was a quick grope while they kissed.

Down below, the head of Slytherin house, whilst feeling pent up and frustrated, was still riding the high of his newfound life. Every time he saw his muse, he felt the urge to pick her up and carry her some place quiet for long kisses and good conversation. He was slowly adjusting to the realisation that the dark lord was gone; his life was no longer at risk and he had been kissed by a beautiful woman. Even more, she was not in mortal danger because of it. Potions class on Monday was a struggle, every time he turned around his eyes found her. He simply couldn't help it. She would look up, bite her lip in consternation and look down to her work. Thankfully, his other students paid him little mind and probably wouldn't notice if he waltzed right over and planted one on her.

Come Monday evening, both he and she were fairly ready to implode. Hermione had been held up a little by Ginny, who was having problems with Harry. By the time she made it to the potion's classroom, her Professor had already begun. There was a curious blue smog hanging about the top of the room and the smell of burnt wafted up her nose.

"What on earth?"

"I became overeager and added too much Knightia root in the hopes of a higher dosage keeping the drinker awake. All it did was overwhelm the other ingredients and flood the cauldron all over the place. There must be something we are missing, but I don't know what it is."

"We'll get there" Hermione placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing soothingly. She could feel the raised skin of his inner arm underneath her fingertips. Daringly, she turned his arm over. He said nothing as she observed the dark mark, a final piece of the dark lord still claiming its place on his flesh. As she traced a finger over it, he cringed. Tried to pull away, ashamed. She stilled him and moved to pull up her sleeve.

Severus swallowed, realising what she was doing. He had never implored about the scar, assuming it to be from the war. He had always known it to be a tender point for her. The little witch before him held out her arm and stared resolutely at the floor.

His stomach turned as he took it in, bile rising in his throat. The word "mudblood" was carved crookedly into her arm, through many layers of flesh. Having tended to many scars over the years, his first thought was to wonder why no one had removed it. A cool draft made the wall sconces flicker and in the changing light he saw the faint shimmer of magic. A cursed blade, dark magic. A death eater favourite. Of course, people _had_ tried. No one had succeeded.

Severus saw red.

"Who? How?" He spat, barely able to form coherent words. How the hell had he not known about this sooner?

"Bellatrix. At Malfoy Manor while we hunted horcruxes. She held me down, I couldn't get up- couldn't get away" Her voice trembled. "It burned, worse than anything I've ever felt. And when I saw it…"

"The bitch is lucky she's dead" He snarled, pacing the room. Even without his robes, he was a menacing sight. "Although I've half a mind to bring her back so I can kill her again!"

Hermione felt oddly touched by his anger on her behalf, warmed by his protectiveness.

"She isn't worth thinking of. That's not why I showed you. We all have our histories, our blood. Our scars. It doesn't make us who we are."

His anger lessened considerably as her words washed over him. She was covertly informing him that she accepted his past and who he was, dark mark and all. He never thought he would see the day. Such kindness and care, from a student no less. He supposed she was a Gryffindor, after all.

"We'll get this potion made, one way or another. Although I won't be sorry if it takes us a long, longgg time."

He quirked his eyebrow at her, reluctantly placated.

For the next few hours, they worked diligently at the potion. The pair added different concentrations of tree root until the blue smog disappeared, replaced by the telling golden shimmer of dreamless sleep. Hermione let out a whoop, stretching up to give the wizard a spontaneous kiss. She was sure they had the potion perfect, aside from their mysterious missing component. Still, it was an achievement getting those ingredients together in a stable sense. He grinned back at her, satisfied with their success. The grin reached his eyes and he gazed down at her like a predator ready to pounce.

A shiver ran through Hermione as his eyes roved over her. Oh gods, he was so handsome. His unique, angular features only attracted her more. He moved forward to wrap his arms around her, sliding them under her bum and picking her up. She let out a small shriek as she wrapped her legs around him, laughing against his firm shoulder. Though lean, Severus was strong. He ran the distance of the black lake often, determined to remain in form. Just in case. He carried her to the desk, placing her down gently. She kept her legs wrapped around him, boldly pulling him in. It was surreal, she thought, that this angry, haunted man could possess such affection. He kissed her deeply, allowing her to bring his body against hers. She whimpered softly, as he nibbled her lower lip. She reached a hand up, running it through his silky black hair. She noted that it was actually quite soft. Feeling daring and being the impatient girl that she was, Hermione took a hold of one of Severus' hands. It was cool to the touch and trembling, ever so slightly. She slid the hand under her robes, under her shirt and rested it on the soft skin above her hip. The hand trembled harder, Severus let out a breathy moan. He traced tentative circles over her stomach, slowly travelling higher. He looked into her eyes and seeing the trust and desire in her caramel eyes, he slipped the hand under her bra. She let out a sigh, while Severus held his breath. Her skin was incredibly soft, she was so warm. She pushed her flesh firmly into his hand, arching her back. The need to see her was overwhelming. She seemed to understand, for she pulled back from him and shrugged out of her robes. She wore a simple muggle t-shirt. He put his hands to the hem, looking at her. She bit her lip and nodded consent. He lifted the shirt up and over her head, breath catching in his chest again as he laid eyes on her. The skin of her chest was creamy, dotted with freckles. She wore a pale blue, lacy bra. Her breasts fit perfectly in his hands. He spent a time caressing her soft skin, placing gentle kisses on her face as he did so. She lay still, eyes closed. He continued his ministrations, whispering silkily into her ears.

Suddenly, the girl below him opened her eyes. She sat up and grasped his hands, pulling him to her. He looked down to her face, trying to gauge what was happening. She bravely gazed at him and before he could fully register what was happening, her fingers had enclosed themselves around him. He could feel the warmth of her palms through the fabric of his pants, his knees went weak. If she weren't careful, he would come right there and what an embarrassment that would be. She rubbed tentatively at the bulge, making him groan.

"I wasn't kidding when I said you'd be the death of me."

She grinned. "I've never… touched anyone there before. I'm sorry, I don't know how or what-"

He cut her off, "That is quite alright. After many years of mistreatment, fear of imminent death and a menagerie of other awful things, I am in no hurry to rush things."

She seemed somewhat relieved, but also disappointed.

Seeing her lips pout, he laughed. "Don't you worry, I'll deal to you soon enough. However, seeing as you are still my student, it wouldn't be appropriate to go down any of those paths… yet."


End file.
